A  YEAR 

IN  A  COAL-MINE 

JOSEPH  HUSBAND 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Class 


A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 


PORTRAIT   OF   THE   AUTHOR 


A  YEAR 
IN  A  GOAL-MINE 


BY 


JOSEPH  HUSBAND 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
$tt&  Cambridge 
1911 


H  * 


COPYRIGHT,   1910,  BY  THE  ATLANTIC  MONTHLY  COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,   jpll,  BY  JOSEPH  HUSBAND 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

Published  April  tqix 


CONTENTS 

I.  THE  NEW  MAN 1 

II.  LOADING  COAL  WITH  A  GREEK  BUDDY     .        17 

III.  AN  UNDERGROUND  CITY        .        .        .        .29 

IV.  DANGERS  OF  THE  MINE      ....        44= 
V.  MINERS'  SUPERSTITIONS 63 

VI.  FIRE     ........        72 

VII.  THE  DEADLY  GASES       .       .       «       .        .85 

VIII.  FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE    .       .    "  .       .      101 

IX.  EXPLOSIONS      .        .        ...       .        .  124 

X.  ROB  CARR    .        .        ...        .        .139 

XI.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MINE         .        .        .164 


326763 


A  YEAE  IN  A  COAL-MINE 
I 

THE   NEW  MAN 

TEN  days  after  my  graduation  from 
Harvard  I  took  my  place  as  an  un- 
skilled workman  in  one  of  the  largest  of 
the  great  soft-coal  mines  that  lie  in  the 
Middle  West.  It  was  with  no  thought  of 
writing  my  experiences  that  I  chose  my 
occupation,  but  with  the  intention  of  learn- 
ing by  actual  work  the  "operating  end" 
of  the  great  industry,  in  the  hope  that  such 
practical  knowledge  as  I  should  acquire 
would  fit  me  to  follow  the  business  suc- 
cessfully. That  this  mine  was  operated  in 
direct  opposition  to  the  local  organization 
of  union  labor  and  had  won  considerable 


/* :  : YEARi  LV  A  COAL-MINE 
notoriety  by  successfully  mining  coal  in 
spite  of  the  most  active  hostility,  gave  an 
added  interest  to  the  work.  The  physical 
conditions  of  the  mine  were  the  most  per- 
fect that  modern  engineering  has  devised: 
the  "workings"  were  entirely  electrified; 
the  latest  inventions  in  coal-mining  machin- 
ery were  everywhere  employed,  and  every 
precaution  for  the  safety  of  the  men  was 
followed  beyond  the  letter  of  the  law. 

It  was  half -past  six  on  a  July  morning 
when  the  day-shift  began  streaming  out  of 
the  wash-house :  some  four  hundred  men, 
—  white,  black,  and  of  perhaps  twenty- 
eight  nationalities,  —  dressed  in  their  tat- 
L  tered,  black,  and  greasy  mine-clothes.  The 
long  stream  wound  out  of  the  wash-house 
door,  past  the  power-house  where  the  two 
big  generators  that  feed  the  arteries  of  the 
great  mine  all  day  long  with  its  motive 


THE  NEW  MAN  3 

power  were  screaming  in  a  high,  shrill 
rhythm  of  sound,  —  past  the  tall  skeleton 
structure  of  the  tipple-tower,  from  which 
the  light  morning  breeze  blew  black  clouds 
of  coal-dust  as  it  eddied  around  the  skele- 
ton of  structural  iron-work,  —  to  a  small 
house  at  the  mine-mouth,  sheathed  in  cor- 
rugated iron,  where  the  broken  line  formed 
a  column,  and  the  men,  one  by  one,  passed 
through  a  gate  by  a  small  window  and 
gave  their  numbers  to  a  red-faced  man 
who  checked  down  in  a  great  book  the  men 
who  were  entering  the  mine. 

From  the  window  we  passed  along  to  a 
little  inclosure  directly  above  the  mouth  of 
the  main  hoisting-shaft.  Sheer  above  it  the 
black  tower  of  the  tipple  pointed  up  into 
the  hot,  blue  morning  sky;  and  the  dull, 
dry  heat  of  the  flat  Illinois  country  seemed 
to  sink  down  around  it.  But  from  the 
square,  black  mouth  of  the  shaft  a  strong, 


4  A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

steady  blast  of  cool  air  struck  the  faces  of 
the  men  who  stood  at  the  head  of  the  little 
column  waiting  for  the  next  hoist.  On  the 
one  side  of  the  shaft-mouth,  long  lines  of 
empty  railroad  cars  stretched  out  beyond 
into  the  flat  country,  each  waiting  its  turn  to 
be  filled  some  time  during  the  day  with  coal 
that  would  come  pouring  down  over  the 
great  screens  in  the  tipple ;  and  on  the  other 
side  of  the  shaft-mouth,under  the  seamed 
roof  of  the  building  where  the  checker 
wrote  down  the  numbers  of  the  day-shift, 
sat  the  hoisting  engineer  —  a  scrawny, 
hard-faced  man  with  a  mine-cap  pushed 
back  from  his  forehead. 

Beside  him  was  the  great  drum  on  which 
the  long  steel  cables  that  lifted  and  low- 
ered the  hoisting-cage  were  rapidly  un- 
winding, and  in  his  hand  he  held  a  lever 
by  which  he  controlled  the  ascent  or  de- 
scent of  the  "  cage."  The  first  cage  had 


THE  NEWJMAN  5 

been  lowered,  and  as  I  watched  him  and 
the  dial  before  him,  I  saw  his  hand  follow 
his  eye,  and  as  the  white  arrow  passed  the 
300-foot  level,  the  hand  drew  back  a  notch 
and  the  long,  lithe  wire  began  to  uncoil 
more  slowly.  Three  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
—  and  another  notch  —  and  as  the  arrow 
reached  near  the  400-foot  mark,  his  foot 
came  down  hard  on  the  brake,  and  a  min- 
ute later  a  bell  at  his  elbow  sounded  the 
signal  of  the  safe  arrival  of  the  hoist.  A 
minute,  and  another  signal;  and  then,  re- 
leasing his  foot  from  the  brake,  and  pull- 
ing another  lever  toward  him,  the  drums, 
reversed,  began  to  re-wind;  and  as  the 
arrow  flew  backwards,  I  realized  that  the 
cage  was  nearing  the  top,  —  the  cage  on 
which  a  minute  later  I  was  to  make  my  de- 
scent as  a  "  loader  "  into  one  of  the  largest, 
and  perhaps  most  famous,  of  the  vast  soft- 
coal  mines  that  lie  in  our  Middle  States. 


6  A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

As  the  thin  cables  streamed  upward  and 
over  the  sheave-wheels  above  the  shaft 
and  down  to  the  reeling-drums,  I  looked  at 
the  men  about  me  and  felt  a  sudden  mortifi- 
cation at  the  clean  blue  of  my  overalls,  and 
the  bright  polish  on  my  pick  and  shovel. 
A  roar  at  the  shaft-mouth,  the  grind  of 
the  drums  as  the  brakes  shot  in,  and  the 
cage  lifted  itself  suddenly  from  the  shaft. 

The  cage,  or  elevator,  on  which  the  men 
were  lowered  into  the  mine,  was  a  great 
steel  box  divided  into  four  superimposed 
compartments,  each  holding  ten  men;  and 
I  stood,  with  nine  others,  crowded  on  the 
first  or  lowest  deck.  As  the  last  man  pushed 
into  his  place  and  we  stood  shoulder  to 
shoulder,  the  hoisting  engineer  slowly 
slipped  his  lever  again  toward  him,  and  as 
slowly  the  cage  sank.  Then,  in  an  instant, 
the  white-blue  of  the  sky  was  gone,  except 
for  a  thin  crack  below  the  deck  above  us, 


THE  NEW  MAN  7 

through  which  a  sheet  of  white  light  sliced 
in  and  hung  heavily  in  the  dusty  air  of  our 
compartment.  The  high  song  of  the  gen- 
erators in  the  power-house,  the  choking 
puffs  of  the  switch-engine  in  the  yards, 
and  the  noise  of  men  and  work  which  I 
had  not  noticed  before,  I  now  suddenly 
missed  in  the  absence  of  sound.  There  was 
a  shuffling  of  feet  on  the  deck  above,  and 
again  we  sank,  and  this  time  all  was  dark- 
ness, while  we  paused  for  the  third  deck 
to  fill.  Once  more — and  again  for  the 
fourth.  Then,  as  the  cage  started  and  the 
roar  of  the  shoes  on  the  guide-rails  struck 
my  ears,  I  looked  at  the  men  about  me. 
They  were  talking  in  a  whirr  of  foreign 
words;  and  hi  the  greasy  yellow  light  of 
their  pit-lamps,  which  hung  like  miniature 
coffee-pots  in  the  brims  of  their  caps,  the 
strong,  hard  lines  of  their  faces  deepened. 
The  working  day  was  begun. 


8  A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

As  the  cage  shot  down,  the  wall  of  the 
shaft  seemed  to  slip  up,  and  from  its  wet, 
slimy  surface  an  occasional  spatter  of  mud 
shot  in  on  the  faces  of  the  miners.  Strong 
smells  of  garlic,  of  sweat,  and  of  burning 
oil  filled  the  compartment,  and  the  air, 
which  sucked  up  through  the  cracks  be- 
neath our  feet  as  though  under  the  force 
of  a  piston,  fanned  and  pulled  the  yellow 
flames  in  the  men's  caps  into  smoking 
streaks.  Then  I  felt  the  speed  of  the 
"  hoist "  diminish.  A  pressure  came  in  my 
ears  and  I  swallowed  hard;  and  a  second 
later,  a  soft  yet  abrupt  pause  in  our  de- 
scent brought  me  down  on  my  heels.  The 
black  wall  of  the  shaft  before  me  suddenly 
gave  way  and  we  came  to  a  stop  on  the 
bottom  of  the  mine. 

It  was  cool,  and  after  the  heat  of  a  July 
morning,  the  damp  freshness  of  the  air 
chilled  me.  With  dinner-pails  banging 


THE^NEW  MAN  9 

against  our  knees  we  pushed  out  of  the 
hoist;  and  as  the  men  crowded  past  me,  I 
stood  with  my  back  against  a  great  timber 
and  looked  around  me.  Behind,  the  hoist 
had  already  sunk  into  the  "  sump,"  or  pit, 
at  the  bottom  of  the  shaft,  in  order  that 
the  men  on  the  second  compartment  might 
pass  out  into  the  mine ;  and  a  second  later 
they  swarmed  by  me  —  and  still  I  stood, 
half -dazed  by  the  roar  of  unknown  sounds, 
my  eyes  blanketed  by  the  absence  of  light, 
and  my  whole  mind  smothered  and  crushed. 
I  was  standing  just  off  the  main  entry  or 
tunnel  of  the  mine,  which  began  on  my 
left  hand  out  of  blackness  and  passed 
again,  on  my  right,  into  a  seeming  wall  of 
darkness.  The  low,  black  roof,  closely 
beamed  with  great  timbers,  was  held  by 
long  lines  of  great  whitewashed  tree- 
trunks.  A  few  electric  lights  shone  dimly 
through  their  dust-coated  globes,  and  the 


10          A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

yellow  flames  from  the  men's  pit-lamps, 
which  had  flared  so  bright  in  the  compart- 
ment of  the  hoisting-cage,  seemed  now  but 
thin  tongues  of  flame  that  marked  rather 
than  disclosed  the  men. 

Out  of  the  blackness  on  the  left,  two 
tracks  passed  over  a  great  pit  and  stretched 
on  into  the  blackness  on  the  right,  as  though 
into  the  wall  of  the  coal  itself.  Then,  far 
off,  a  red  signal-light  winked  out  and 
made  distance  visible ;  and  beyond  it  came 
the  sound  of  grinding  wheels ;  there  was 
the  gleam  of  a  headlight  on  the  steel  rails. 
The  ray  grew  larger  and  two  yellow  sparks 
above  it  flamed  out  into  pit-lights.  A  train 
was  coming  out  of  the  entry  and  I  waited 
until  it  should  pass.  "With  a  grind  of  brakes 
it  suddenly  loomed  out  of  the  blackness 
and  into  the  dull  haze  of  light  at  the  shaft- 
bottom.  With  a  roar  it  passed  by.  The  lo- 
comotive, a  great  iron  box,  was  built  like 


THE  NEW  MAN  11 

a  battering-ram,  the  headlight  set  in  its 
armor-plated  bow,  and  behind,  on  two  low 
seats,  as  in  a  racing  automobile,  sat  the 
motorman  and  the  "  trip-rider,"  or  helper, 
the  motorman  with  one  hand  on  the  great 
iron  brake-wheel,  the  other  on  his  control- 
ler, and  the  trip-rider  swinging  on  his  low 
seat,  half  on  the  motor  and  half  over  the 
coupling  of  the  rocking  car  behind,  cling- 
ing to  the  pole  of  the  trolley.  Their  faces 
were  black  with  the  coal-dust,  —  black  as 
the  motor  and  their  clothing,  —  and  from 
their  pit-lamps  the  flames  bent  back  in  the 
wind  and  streamed  out  straight  along  their 
cap-tops.  Low  above  the  head  of  the  trip- 
rider  the  wheel  on  the  trolley  streaked  out 
sudden  bursts  of  greenish-white  sparks 
along  the  wire ;  and  as  the  train  passed  by, 
the  roar  of  the  locomotive  gave  place  to 
the'  clattering  of  the  couplings  of  the  long 
string  of  stocky  cars,  each  heaped  high 


12         A  YEAR  IN  A  COALHMINE 

with  its  black  load  of   coal.   Some  one 
seized  me  by  the  elbow. 

"What  's  yer  number?  "  he  asked. 


"Loader?  Newman?" 

I  nodded. 

"  Come  along  with  me." 

He  was  a  tall,  thin  man,  who  walked 
with  his  head  thrown  forward  and  his  chin 
against  his  chest  as  though  in  constant  fear 
of  striking  the  low  beams  overhead.  I  fol- 
lowed him,  stumbling  rather  clumsily  over 
the  broken  coal  beside  the  track.  The  train 
had  come  to  a  stop  over  the  pit  between 
the  rails,  and  men  with  iron  bars  were  beat- 
ing loose  the  frogs  and  releasing  the  hop- 
per-bottoms of  the  cars.  Heavy  clouds  of 
fine  coal-dust  poured  up  from  the  cars  as 
the  coal  roared  down  into  the  bins;  and 
the  clanking  of  metal,  the  crash  of  falling 
coal,  and  the  unintelligible  shouting  of  the 


THE  NEW  MAN  13 

foreigners,  filled  the  entry  with  a  dull  tu- 
mult of  sounds.  Dodging  the  low  trolley- 
wire  which  hung  about  five  feet  above  the 
rails,  we  crawled  across  the  coupling  be- 
tween two  of  the  cars  to  the  other  side  of 
the  entry  and  walked  to  the  left,  past  the 
locomotive,  where  the  motorman  was  still 
sitting  in  his  low  seat,  waiting  to  pull  out 
his  train  of  empty  cars  into  the  sudden 
darkness  of  the  tunnel  beyond.  Then,  for 
the  first  time,  I  learned  that  mines  are 
echoless,  and  that  sound  —  like  light — is 
absorbed  by  the  blotter-like  walls  of  the 
tunnels. 

We  walked  down  the  entry  between  the 
rails,  and  after  a  hundred  yards  turned  with 
the  switch  in  the  track  sharply  to  the  right, 
and  again  on.  Sense  of  direction  or  angles 
was  lost,  and,  like  the  faces  in  a  foreign 
race  of  people,  where  one  can  see  little 
or  no  individuality,  so  here,  each  corner 


14         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

seemed  the  same,  and  in  a  hundred  yards 
I  was  utterly  lost.  Above  was  the  smooth, 
black  roof;  below,  the  ties  and  the  rails; 
and  on  either  side,  behind  the  two  long 
rows  of  props,  the  face  of  the  coal-seam, 
which  glittered  and  sparkled  in  the  light 
from  our  pit-lamps  like  a  dull  diamond. 
We  talked  a  little.  My  companion  asked 
me  where  I  had  worked  before,  how  much 
I  knew  of  mines,  and  a  few  other  ques- 
tions; and  still  we  walked  on,  dodging  the 
low  wire  that  comes  level  with  one's  ear, 
and  stumbling  over  the  layer  of  broken 
coal  that  lay  strewn  here  and  there  be- 
tween the  rails. 

The  silence  was  like  the  darkness  —  a 
total  absence  of  sound,  rather  than  still- 
ness, as  my  first  impression  of  the  mine 
had  been  that  of  an  absence  of  light,  rather 
than  of  darkness.  The  smoking  lights  in 
our  caps  seemed  to  press  out  through  the 


A  NEW  MAN  15 

blackness  twenty  feet  around  us,  where 
the  light  disappeared  and  was  gone.  And 
always  in  front  of  us,  out  of  the  black  dark- 
ness, the  two  long  lines  of  props  on  either 
side  of  the  track  stepped  one  by  one  into 
the  yellow  haze  of  light  and  sank  again 
into  darkness  behind  us  as  we  walked. 

The  air  was  cool  and  damp,  but  as  we 
turned  the  last  corner  the  dampness 
seemed  suddenly  gone  from  it.  It  was 
warmer  and  closer.  Here  the  track  swerved 
up  from  one  of  the  main  tunnels  into  a 
"  room,"  and  at  the  end,  or  "  heading  "  of 
this  room,  which  we  reached  a  few  min- 
utes later,  empty  and  waiting  for  its  first 
load,  stood  one  of  the  square  cars  which  I 
had  seen  before  at  the  mine-bottom  and 
which  we  passed  several  times  on  sid- 
ings by  the  track.  The  car  was  pushed 
up  to  the  end  of  the  track  and  its  wheels 
"  spragged  "  by  two  blocks  of  coal.  Here 


16         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

the  tunnel  suddenly  ended,  and  from  the 
blank,  back  "  face  "  a  rough,  broken  pile 
of  coal  streamed  down  on  both  sides  of  the 
car  and  reared  up  before  it  against  the 
roof. 

"  Just  shovel  ?er  full,  then  wait  till  the 
motor  takes  her  out  and  sends  in  an  empty, 
and  fill  that  one.  I  '11  look  in  on  you  once 
in  a  while  and  see  how  you're  getting 
along." 

Then  he  turned  and  walked  down  the 
track  and  left  me  in  the  dim  light  of  my 
single  pit-lamp. 


II 


LOADING  COAL  WITH  A   GREEK  BUDDY 

IN  the  first  days  of  coal-mining — as  in 
many  mines  to-day  where  modern  meth- 
ods have  not  superseded  those  of  old-time 
miners — a  man  did  all  the  work.  "With 
his  hand-drill  he  bored  into  the  face  of  the 
coal  at  the  head  of  his  room,  or  entry,  and 
from  his  keg  of  powder  he  made  long 
cartridges  and  inserted  them  into  his  drill- 
holes. Then,  when  the  coal  was  blasted 
down,  and  he  had  broken  it  with  a  pick, 
he  loaded  it  with  his  shovel  into  a  car; 
and  trimming  square  the  face  of  the  tun- 
nel, propping  when  necessary,  he  pushed 
on  and  on  until  he  broke  through  and 
joined  the  next  tunnel  or  completed  the 
required  length  of  that  single  entry. 


18         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

But  to-day  these  conditions  are,  in  most 
instances,  changed.  The  work  begins  with 
the  "  machine-men,"  who  operate  the 
"  chain-machines."  In  order  that  the  blast 
may  dislodge  by  gravity  an  even  block  of 
coal  the  dimensions  of  the  cross-section  of 
the  tunnel,  these  men  cut  with  their  ma- 
chines a  "  sump-cut,"  or,  in  other  words, 
carve  out  an  opening  level  with  the  floor, 
about  six  inches  high  and  six  feet  deep  at 
the  end  of  the  tunnel.  The  machines  — 
which  are  propelled  by  electricity  —  con- 
sist of  a  motor  and  a  large  oblong  disk, 
about  which  travels  an  endless  chain  con- 
taining sharp  steel  "  bits  "  or  picks.  The 
machine  is  braced,  the  current  turned  on, 
and  the  disk  advanced  against  the  coal, 
automatically  advancing  as  the  bits  grind 
out  the  coal.  As  soon  as  the  machine  has 
entered  to  the  full  six  feet,  the  disk  is 
withdrawn  and  the  cut  continued  until  it 
extends  across  the  entire  face. 


LOADING  COAL  WITH  A  BUDDY    19 

In  the  evening  the  drillers,  with  their 
powerful  air-drills,  bore  a  series  of  five  or 
six  six-foot  "  shot-holes,"  four  along  the 
roof,  and  two  on  each  side  for  the  "  rib- 
shots."  Then  a  third  crew  of  men,  the 
"  shot-firers,"  fill  the  deep  drill-hole  with 
long  cartridges  of  coarse  black  powder, 
and  blast  down  the  coal,  which  falls  bro- 
ken and  crumbled  into  the  cut  prepared  by 
the  machine-men.  In  the  morning,  when 
the  ever-moving  current  of  air,  forced  into 
the  mine  by  the  fan  at  the  mouth  of  the 
air-shaft,  has  cleared  away  the  dust  and 
smoke,  the  loaders  enter  the  mine  and  all 
day  long  load  into  the  ever-ready  cars  the 
coal  that  has  been  blasted  down,  until  the 
"  place  "  is  cleaned  up,  and  their  work  is 
done.  Then  they  move  on  to  another 
"place,"  and  so  the  work  goes  on  in  a  per- 
fect system  of  rotation. 

My  companion  had  told  me,  as  we  walked 


20         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

from  the  mine-bottom,  that  his  name  was 
Billy  "Wild.  "Call  me  Billy,"  he  said;  and 
as  we  walked  down  the  track  to  the  main 
entry,  he  turned  and  called  over  his  shoul- 
der, "You're  in  Eoom  27,  Third  West 
South.  That 's  where  you  are,  if  you  want 
to  know."  The  light  in  my  lamp  was  burn- 
ing low,  and  I  sat  down  on  a  pile  of  coal 
beside  the  track,  lifted  it  out  of  the  socket 
in  my  cap,  and  pried  up  the  wick  with  a  nail 
which  one  of  the  men  "  on  top  "  had  given 
me  for  the  purpose.  Then  I  stripped  to 
the  waist  and  began  to  load,  shovelful  after 
shovelful,  each  lifted  four  feet  and  turned 
over  into  the  waiting  car,  for  two  long 
hours,  sometimes  stopping  to  break  with 
my  pick  great  blocks  of  coal  that  were  too 
large  to  lift,  even  with  my  hands.  Then 
finally,  lumps  of  coal  began  to  show  above 
the  edge  of  the  car,  and  I  "  trimmed  "  it, 
lifting  some  of  the  larger  pieces  to  my 


LOADING  COAL  WITH  A  BUDDY    21 

knees,  then  against  my  chest,  and  then 
throwing  them  up  on  the  top  of  the  pile. 

The  noise  of  the  shovel  scraping  against 
the  floor  and  the  clatter  of  the  coal  as  the 
great  pile  slid  down  and  filled  each  hole 
that  I  dug  out  at  its  foot,  filled  the  tunnel 
with  friendly  sounds;  but  when  the  car 
was  loaded  and  I  slipped  on  my  coat  and 
sat  down  on  a  pile  of  fine  coal-dust  beside 
the  track  to  wait,  silence  suddenly  sub- 
merged me.  I  could  hear  my  heart  beat, 
and  curious  noises  sang  in  my  ears.  Up  in 
the  roof,  under  the  stratum  of  slate  above 
the  coal,  came  a  trickling  sound  like  run- 
ning water — the  sound  of  gas  seeping  out 
through  the  crevices  in  the  coal.  I  was  wet 
with  sweat,  and  my  face,  hands,  and  body 
were  black  where  the  great  cloud  of  dust 
which  my  shovel  had  created,  had  smeared 
my  wet  skin.  Dull  pains  in  the  small  of  my 
back  caught  me  when  I  moved,  and  every 


22         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

muscle  in  my  body  ached.  (In  a  week  my 
hands  had  blistered,  the  blisters  had  bro- 
ken, and  then  over  the  cracked  flesh  in- 
grained with  coal-dust  healing  callouses 
had  begun  to  form.) 

Then,  far  off  in  the  distance,  came  a 
muffled,  grinding  sound  that  grew  louder 
and  louder,  —  a  sound  that  almost  terri- 
fied. A  dull,  yellow  light,  far  down  in  the 
mouth  of  the  room,  outlined  the  square  of 
the  tunnel,  and  then,  around  the  corner 
came  the  headlight  of  the  electric  "  gath- 
ering "  or  switching  locomotive,  and  above 
it,  the  bobbing  yellow  flames  of  two  pit- 
lamps.  With  a  grinding  roar,  the  motor 
struck  the  up-grade  and  came  looming  up 
the  tunnel,  filling  it  with  its  bulk.  There 
was  sound  and  the  silence  was  gone.  The 
coupling  of  the  locomotive  locked  with  the 
coupling  of  the  waiting  car,  and  they  rum- 
bled away.  Once  more  the  locomotive 


LOADING  COAL  WITH  A  BUDDY    23 

came,  this  time  with  an  "  empty "  to  be 
filled.  In  the  old  days,  mules  were  used  to 
"  gather  "  the  loaded  cars,  and,  in  fact,  are 
still  employed  in  most  mines  to-day;  but 
electricity  permits  bigger  loads,  and  the 
dozen  or  two  of  mules  that  lived  in  the 
min^  were  used  only  where  it  was  impos- 
sible to  run  the  locomotive. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  I  was  given  a 
companion,  or  "buddy."  Our  lockers  in 
the  wash-house  were  near  together,  and 
we  usually  went  down  on  the  same  hoist; 
but  some  mornings  I  would  find  Jim  ahead 
of  me,  waiting  by  the  scale-house.  Jim 
rarely  took  the  full  benefit  of  the  wash- 
house  privileges,  and  morning  found  him 
with  the  dirt  and  grime  of  the  work  of  the 
previous  day  still  on  his  face.  He  was  a 
Greek,  short,  with  a  thin,  black  moustache, 
which  drooped  down  into  two  "  rat-tail " 
points.  Around  each  eye  a  heavy  black 


24         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

line  of  coal-dust  was  penciled,  as  though 
by  an  actor's  crayon.  His  torn  black  work- 
ing clothes,  greasy  with  oil  dripped  from 
his  pit-lamp,  hung  on  him  like  rags  on  a 
scare-crow.  From  the  scale-house  we 
walked  up  the  now  familiar  entries  in 
"  Third  "West  South  "  to  the  room  where 
we  worked,  and  dug  out  our  picks  and 
shovels  from  under  a  pile  of  coal  where 
we  had  hidden  them  the  night  before. 
Then  in  the  still  close  air  of  the  silent  room 
we  began  each  morning  to  fill  the  first  car. 
Down  in  the  scale-house,  where  the  cars 
were  hauled  over  the  scales  set  in  the 
track,  before  being  dumped  into  the  bins 
between  the  rails,  Old  Man  Davis  took  the 
weights;  and  when  the  loader's  number — 
a  small  brass  tag  with  his  number  stamped 
upon  it — was  given  to  him,  he  marked 
down  opposite  it  the  pounds  of  coal  to  the 
loader's  credit;  and  so  each  day  on  the 


LOADING  COAL  WITH  A  BUDDY    25 

great  sheet,  smootched  with  his  dusty 
hands,  stood  a  record  of  each  man's 
strength  measured  in  tons  of  coal. 

When  Jim  and  I  worked  together,  we 
took  turns  hanging  our  numbers  inside  the 
car,  and  each  night  we  remembered  to 
whose  credit  the  last  car  had  been,  and  the 
next  morning,  if  my  number  had  been 
hung  in  the  last  car  of  the  day  before,  Jim 
would  pull  one  of  his  tags  out  of  hisv  pocket 
and  hang  it  on  the  hook  just  inside  the 
1  edge  of  the  empty  car.  Then,  he  on  one 
side  and  I  on  the  other,  we  worked,  shov- 
elful after  shovelful,  until  the  coal  showed 
above  the  edge.  And  then  came  the  "  trim- 
ming" with  the  great  blocks  that  had  to  be 
lifted  and  pushed  with  our  chests  and  arms 
up  on  the  top  of  the  filled  car. 

Time  went  slowly  then,  for  we  could 
load  a  car  together  in  less  than  an  hour; 
and  sometimes  it  took  an  hour  and  a  half 


26         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

before  the  "  gathering  "  motor  would  come 
grinding  up  into  the  room  to  give  us  an 
"empty."  In  those  long  half-hours  we 
would  sit  together  on  a  pile  of  coal-dust 
beside  the  track  and  try  to  talk  to  each 
other. 

Jim  was  a  Greek,  and  from  what  I  was 
able  to  gather,  he  came  from  somewhere 
in  the  southern  part  of  the  peninsula.  I 
remembered  a  little  Homer,  and  I  often 
tried  stray  words  on  him;  but  my  pro- 
nunciation of  the  Greek  of  ancient  Athens 
was  not  the  Greek  of  Jim  Bardas;  and 
although  he  recognized  attempts  at  his 
own  tongue  and  oftentimes  the  meaning 
of  the  words,  it  was  not  until  we  discovered 
a  system  of  writing  that  we  began  to  get 
I  along.  Mixed  in  with  the  coal  that  had 
been  blasted  down  by  the  shot-firers  the 
night  before,  we  occasionally  found  strips 
of  white  paper  from  the  cartridges.  "We 


LOADING  COAL  WITH  A  BUDDY    27 

always  saved  these  and  laid  them  beside 
our  dinner-pails;  and  when  the  car  was 
filled  and  we  had  sat  down  again  in  the 
quiet  beside  the  track,  we  would  take  our 
pit-lamps  out  of  our  caps  and,  rubbing  our 
fingers  in  the  greasy  gum  of  oil  and  coal- 
dust  that  formed  under  the  lamp-spout, 
we  would  write  words  with  our  fingers  on 
the  white  strips  of  paper:  avOpuiros,  TTTTTOS, 


Jim  knew  some  English,  the  word  for 
coal,  car,  loader  —  and  he  learned  that  my 
name  was  Joe,  and  called  me  "  My  friend," 
and  "  buddy."  Then  sometimes  after  the 
fascination  of  writing  words  had  worn 
away,  we  would  sit  still  and  listen  to  the 
gas  or  for  the  approach  of  the  motor;  and 
sometimes  when  the  wicks  in  our  lamps 
had  burned  low,  I  would  take  out  of  my 
pocket  the  round  ball  of  lamp-wick  and, 
like  old  women  with  a  skein  of  yarn,  we 


28         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

would  wind  back  and  forth,  from  his 
fingers  to  my  own,  sixteen  strands  of  lamp- 
wick;  and  then,  tying  the  end  in  a  rude 
knot  and  breaking  it  off,  stick  the  skein 
of  wick  down  the  spout  of  the  lamp  until 
only  the  end  remained  in  sight.  Next, 
lifting  the  little  lid  on  the  top,  we  would 
fill  the  body  with  oil,  shaking  it  until  the 
wick  was  thoroughly  soaked  so  that  it 
would  burn. 


Ill 

AN  irNDEEGROUND   CITY 


was  comparatively  little  gas  in 
the  mine.  Each  morning,  as  we  en- 
tered our  room,  we  made  a  rough  test  for 
gas,  for  occasionally  during  the  night 
some  door  down  in  the  entry  was  acci- 
dentally left  open  and  the  air-current, 
short-circuited,  might  fail  to  reach  up  into 
the  room  and  clean  out  the  ever-generat- 
ing gas.  And  so,  as  we  left  the  entry,  we 
would  take  our  lamps  from  our  caps  and, 
walking  one  before  the  other,  holding 
them  out  before  us  and  slowly  lifting  them 
above  our  heads,  watch  to  see  if  a  sudden 
spurt  of  blue  flame  from  the  pit-lamps 
would  disclose  the  presence  of  "fire- 
damp," the  most  feared  of  all  mine-gases. 


30         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

There  is  always  some  gas  up  under  the 
roof  at  the  head  of  a  room  or  an  entry, 
and  when  the  cars  were  loaded  we  would 
sometimes  burn  it  out,  holding  our  lamps 
high  up  against  the  roof  until  the  gas  up 
in  the  end  of  a  drill-hole,  or  in  a  hollow 
of  a  rock,  burst  suddenly  into  a  soft  blue 
and  yellow  flame  that  puffed  out  against 
the  roof  and  down  toward  our  hands. 
There  was  never  much  of  it,  but  once  in  a 
while  where  the  drill  bored  through  into 
a  pocket,  there  was  more  gas  than  the 
men  anticipated;  and  twice  I  have  seen 
men  come  staggering  down  the  entry, 
holding  their  faces  in  their  hands,  when 
the  flame  had  swerved  suddenly  down  and 
caught  them.  We  could  always  hear  it  — 
the  trickling,  like  water  running  over  peb- 
bles; and  sometimes,  too,  as  we  sat  and 
waited,  we  could  hear  far  up  in  the  strata 
above  a  sudden  crackling  as  the  pressure 


AN  UNDERGROUND  CITY          31 

of  four  hundred  feet  of  solid  stone  bent 
beneath  its  weight  the  supporting  timbers 
and  pillars  of  coal  that  held  up  the  roof  of 
the  mine.  Old  miners  call  these  noises  the 
"  working "  of  a  mine ;  and  often,  where 
the  rooms  were  close  together  and  the 
walls  of  coal  between  them  were  thin, 
there  was  a  constant  splintering  sound  and 
louder  noises  that  would  bring  us  sud- 
denly to  our  feet  in  a  little  panic  of  fear. 

It  is  not  the  loading,  nor  the  long  hours 
with  the  shovel  and  pick,  that  grind  into 
the  brain;  but  it  is  the  silence  and  the 
waiting,  the  silence  and  then  the  sounds, 
and  then  the  silence  again. 

A  coal-mine  is  a  vast  city  in  an  under- 
ground world.  Beside  the  hoisting-shaft, 
down  which  the  men  are  lowered  into  the 
mine  and  from  which  the  coal  is  lifted  in 
great  "  skips,"  or  more  often  in  the  mine- 
cars  themselves,  there  is  the  air-shaft. 


32         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

These  are  usually  the  'only  two  connec- 
tions between  the  mine  and  the  outer 
world.  Shaft  one,  where  we  worked,  was 
about  four  hundred  feet  below  the  sur- 
face, and  comprised  over  seventy-five 
miles  of  tunnels  laid  out  by  the  engineers' 
transit  according  to  a  perfect  system  for 
the  hauling  of  the  coal  and  the  ultimate 
mining  of  the  maximum  quantity.  From 
the  air-shaft  to  the  hoisting-shaft  ran  the 
main  tunnel,  or  entry;  and  parallel  and  at 
right  angles  with  this  tunnel  ran  other 
entries,  dividing  the  mine  into  great  sec- 
tions. 

Down  into  the  air-shaft,  every  hour  of 
the  day  and  night,  an  enormous  fan  in  the 
fan-house  at  the  top  of  the  shaft  pumped 
air  into  the  mine,  and  by  means  of  many 
doors,  stoppings,  and  bridges  or  "over- 
casts," this  strong  current  of  air  passed 
through  every  mile  of  tunneling,  never 


AN  UNDERGROUND  CITY          33 

crossing  its  own  path  and  never  stopping, 
until  it  again  reached  the  main  entry,  but 
this  time  at  the  foot  of  the  hoisting-shaft, 
through  which  - —  fouled  by  the  gases,  the 
dust,  and  impurities  of  the  mine- — it 
poured  out,  a  cold  blast  in  summer,  and  in 
winter  a  pillar  of  misty  vapor  that  ascended 
far  into  the  structure  of  the  tipple-tower 
above  the  shaft-mouth.  To  keep  this  cur- 
rent of  air  from  taking  the  path  of  the 
least  resistance  and  "short-circuiting," 
cutting  off  whole  sections  of  the  mine, 
there  was  arranged  a  system  of  doors 
which  were  opened  to  allow  the  trains  and 
the  mine-cars  to  pass,  and  closed  again 
when  they  had  gone  through.  As  an  addi- 
tional precaution  to  take  care  of  this  life- 
blood  circulation,  without  which  work  in 
the  mine  would  be  impossible,  inspectors 
— whose  duty  it  was  to  measure  the 
strength  of  the  current,  and  to  inspect  the 


34         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

doors  and  stoppings  to  see  that  no  part  of 
the  mine  escaped  the  cleansing  draft — 
passed  constantly  from  place  to  place, 
testing  for  the  presence  of  gas  with  their 
safety-lamps,  and  ever  measuring  the  vol- 
ume and  flow  of  the  air-current. 

And  through  all  this  vast  system  of 
tunnels  ran  the  great  underground  electric 
railway,  with  its  low-hanging  wire,  its 
switching-stations,  its  sidings,  and  its  main 
belt-line.  Small  electric  locomotives  in  the 
various  outlying  sections  of  the  mine 
gathered  the  loaded  cars  from  the  rooms 
where  they  were  filled  by  the  loaders,  and 
made  up  the  trains  on  sidings  near  the 
main  belt-line.  All  day  long  the  large  13- 
ton  locomotives  gathered  these  trains  and 
dragged  them  past  the  scale-house — where 
Old  Man  Davis  checked  up  the  weight  of 
the  loaded  cars  to  each  man's  credit  —  to 
the  great  pit  between  the  rails  at  the  foot 


AN  UNDERGROUND  CITY          85 

of  the  hoisting-shaft,  where  half-naked, 
blackened  Greeks  beat  open  the  hopper- 
bottoms  and  dropped  the  coal  down  into 
the  waiting  bins  below.  And  from  the  bins, 
with  automatic  regularity,  giant  buckets 
or  "  skips "  lifted  the  coal  four  hundred 
and  six  feet  upward  to  the  open  air,  and 
then  fifty  feet  more  to  the  top  of  the  tip- 
ple-tower, where  like  a  tumbling  torrent 
it  poured  down  over  the  sorting-screens 
into  the  railroad  cars  beneath. 

There  were  four  hundred  men  on  the 
day-shift;  and  the  loaders  were,  for  the 
most  part,  Bulgarians  and  Greeks.  Few 
spoke  English,  and  few  had  been  many 
years  in  America.  Some  worked  and  saved 
in  order  to  return  at  a  future  day  to  the 
Old  Country  and  purchase  with  their  earn- 
ings an  acre  or  two  that  would  give  them 
a  position  in  the  little  village  of  their  birth. 
Others  plodded  on,  sending  monthly  re- 


36         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

mittances  to  their  families  and  hoping 
against  hope  that  they  too  might  some 
day  return.  Others,  with  less  strong  ties 
of  home  and  country,  spent  their  earnings 
prodigally  on  gay  clothes  from  the  Com- 
pany Store,  and  much  beer  in  the  evening 
at  the  long  boarding-houses  half  a  mile 
from  the  mine. 

There  was  Big  John,  a  huge  Bulgarian 
giant,  who  had  figured  that  a  dollar  a  day 
was  sufficient  to  give  him  all  that  life  of- 
fered. His  great  body  was  able  to  earn 
twice  that  sum  during  the  working  day, 
for  we  were  paid  entirely  by  piece-work, 
and  a  loader,  at  the  rate  of  twelve  and  a 
half  cents  a  ton,  might  earn  as  high  as 
$2.25  a  day.  But  he  was  lazy,  and  learn- 
ing that  the  only  excuse  for  laziness  was 
sickness,  each  day  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
/  afternoon,  Big  John  presented  himself  to 
Pete  Christof  alus,  the  "  cage-boss,"  at  the 


AN  UNDERGROUND  CITY          37 

mine-bottom,  and  rubbing  his  stomach  with 
one  hand,  told  him,  "  Me  sick;  thees  place 
no  got  steam,  no  can  work,"  and  demanded 

f  that  he  be  allowed  to  leave  the  mine.  There 
were  others  who  would  work  at  night,  in 
addition  to  the  day,  if  they  were  permit- 
ted. An  old  Eussian  and  his  son,  who 
would  enter  the  mine  on  the  earliest  shift 
in  the  morning,  worked  all  day  long,  en- 
raged and  clamoring  for  cars  if  they  did 
not  receive  empties  immediately,  and  some- 
times the  track-men  on  the  night-shift 
would  find  them  loading  all  the  empty  cars 
that  they  could  find  and  leaving  late  at 
night,  to  retire  alone  to  the  corner  of  the 
room  at  the  boarding-house  in  which  they 

f  lived. 

Once  or  twice  on  Greek  Church  days 
the  white  starched  kilts  and  braided  jack- 
ets of  Macedonia  gave  color  to  the  dingy 
streets,  and  once  came  a  half-dozen  Egyp- 


38         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

tians  who  added  their  copper  faces  to  our 
medley  of  nations.  The  head  men  were 

L  Americans,  Scotchmen,  and  Englishmen. 
I  can  remember  how  "  Uncle  Jimmy  "  wept 
on  the  Fourth  of  July  when  the  band 
played  "  Dixie,"  and  how  quiet  steel-eyed 
Sandy  would  take  his  fiddle  (Harry  Lau- 
der  had  been  in  St.  Louis  that  winter),  and 
marching  up  and  down  the  little  parlor  of 
his  house,  stroke  out  with  no  tender  touch, 
but  with  a  wealth  of  feeling,  "  I  Love  a 
Lassie." 

"  Little  Dick,"  interpreter,  spoke  ten 
tongues,  and  read  Virgil.  "When  he  was 
drunk  you  might  guess  that  he  had  been 
once  a  gentleman,  and  that  there  was  a 
reason  for  his  leaving  Austria;  dull  so- 

i   briety  vulgarized  him. 

In  every  tunnel  ran  the  long,  thin  pipe 
along  the  rail,  through  which  came  the 
compressed  air  to  drive  the  air-drills  of 


AN  UNDERGROUND  CITY          39 

the  night-shift.  The  air  in  the  room-head- 
ings was  supposed  to  be  good  enough  for 
men  to  work  in  if  it  was  free  from  gas, 
but  sometimes  when  the  smoke  from  the 
pit-lamps  and  the  smells  of  sweat  and  gar- 
lic, and  the  fine  clouds  of  coal-dust  that 
rose  against  the  roof  with  every  shovel- 
ful, made  it  rank  and  choking,  we  would 
take  our  picks,  and  working  loose  the 
valve  in  the  air-pipe,  hold  our  hands  and 
faces  in  the  strong,  cool  stream  that  seemed 
to  come,  driven  by  an  unknown  power, 
from  a  world  above. 

The  temperature  in  a  mine  is  about  the 
same,  year  in  and  year  out;  cool  in  sum- 
mer, and  warm  in  winter,  in  comparison 
to  the  outer  air;  but  when  the  exertion  of 
labor  brought  the  sweat  streaming  out 
from  every  pore,  the  water  in  our  dinner- 
buckets  seemed  sometimes  almost  too 
warm  to  drink,  and  it  was  Jim  who  taught 


40         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

me  to  loosen  the  valve  on  the  air-pipe  and, 
propping  my  dinner-bucket  with  a  chunk 
of  coal  against  the  vent,  chill  the  water 
with  a  blast  of  compressed  air. 

Day  after  day  we  loaded,  and  one  day 
when  the  great  pile  of  coal  that  had  been 
shot  down  by  the  night-men  had  been 
shoveled  into  the  cars  and  dragged  away, 
and  we  had  attacked  the  loosened  blocks 
at  the  head  of  the  room  with  our  picks, 
there  was  a  hollow  sound,  and  a  minute 
later  my  pick  struck  through  and  we  found 
that  we  had  broken  into  the  heading  of  a 
room  driven  from  another  entry  in  the  op- 
posite direction  from  ours;  and  half  an 
hour  later  we  were  talking  to  two  Greeks 
who  had  climbed  through  the  opening. 

Up  in  the  wash-house,  by  a  locker  near 
to  my  own,  I  often  chatted  with  another 
loader  at  the  beginning  or  at  the  end  of 
the  day.  We  went  down  on  the  same  hoist 


AN  UNDERGROUND  CITY          41 

one  morning,  and  an  hour  later,  as  my  first 
car  stood  half-filled,  the  section  boss  came 
tramping  noisily  up  the  track  and  told  us 
that  the  shift  was  called  off.  As  we 
reached  bottom,  a  motor  came  grind- 
ing down  the  track,  and  in  the  pale  light 
of  the  pit-lamps  and  the  flashing  green  of 
the  trolleys,  we  saw  a  long,  white  bundle, 
wrapped  in  the  coarse  canvas  that  is  used 
to  build  stoppings  for  the  ventilation  sys- 
tem. It  was  the  man  whom  I  had  known 
in  the  wash-house — the  man  who,  an  hour 
before,  had  gone  with  me  into  the  mine. 
We  had  parted  at  the  mine-bottom,  and  he 
had  gone  up  to  his  room,  a  half-mile  from 
the  shaft;  a  room  in  which  the  track,  turn- 
ing from  the  main  entry,  ran  up  at  a  fairly 
high  grade  to  the  heading.  There  he  found 
an  empty  car  waiting  for  him — one  of  the 
great,  heavy,  square  cars  that  stood  ready 
each  morning  to  begin  the  day.  Climbing 


42         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

up,  perhaps  to  hang  his  brass  tag  inside, 
he  had  kicked  loose  from  under  the  wheel 
the  block  of  wood  that  held  it,  or  perhaps 
the  weight  of  his  body  had  moved  the  car; 
at  all  events,  it  had  become  loosened  and 
had  started  down  the  track.  Catching  a 
piece  of  wood  in  his  hand,  he  had  followed 
it,  vainly  trying  to  block  its  wheels.  At  the 
foot  of  the  room,  where  it  joined  the  main 
entry  at  right  angles,  the  track  ran  within 
a  few  inches  of  the  solid  wall  of  coal.  In 
the  darkness,  the  man  had  misjudged  his 
distance  and  the  car  had  caught  him  be- 
tween the  coal  and  its  side,  and  had  passed 
on. 

That  evening,  as  we  walked  home  to  the 
boarding-house,  we  saw  a  dozen  men  walk 
slowly  from  the  Company  Hospital  carry- 
ing on  their  shoulders  a  long  white-pine 
box.  Perhaps  he  had  hoped  some  day  to 
return  to  his  village ;  perhaps  he  sent 


AN  UNDERGROUND  CITY          43 

monthly  remittances  to  his  family  hi  some 
obscure  town  in  the  Croatian  highlands ;  or 
perhaps  he  had  come  alone,  seeking  a  for- 
tune in  a  new  land. 


IY 

DANGERS  OF  THE  MINE 

TO  the  ear  accustomed  to  the  constant 
sound  of  a  living  world,  the  stillness 
of  a  coal-mine,  where  the  miles  of  cross- 
cuts and  entries  and  the  unyielding  walls 
swallow  up  all  sounds  and  echo,  is  a  si- 
lence that  is  complete ;  but,  as  one  becomes 
accustomed  to  the  silence  through  long 
hours  of  solitary  work,  sounds  become 
audible  that  would  escape  an  ear  less 
trained.  The  trickling  murmur  of  the  gas ; 
the  spattering  fall  of  a  lump  of  coal,  loos- 
ened by  some  mysterious  force  from  a 
cranny  in  the  wall ;  the  sudden  knocking  and 
breaking  of  a  stratum  far  up  in  the  rock 
above;  or  the  scurry  of  a  rat  off  some- 
where in  the  darkness — strike  on  the  ear 


DANGERS  OF  THE  MINE          45 

loud  and  startlingly.  The  eye,  too,  becomes 
trained  to  penetrate  the  darkness;  but  the 
darkness  is  so  complete  that  there  is  a  limit, 
the  limit  of  the  rays  cast  by  the  pit-lamp. 
There  is  a  curious  thing  that  I  have  no- 
ticed, and  as  I  have  never  heard  it  men- 
tioned by  any  of  the  other  men,  perhaps 
it  is  an  idea  peculiar  to  myself;  but  on 
days  when  I  entered  the  mine  with  the 
strong  yellow  sunlight  and  the  blue  sky 
as  a  last  memory  of  the  world  above,  I 
carried  with  me  a  condition  of  fair  weather 
that  seemed  to  penetrate  down  into  the 
blackness  of  the  entries  and  make  my  pit- 
lamp  burn  a  little  more  brightly.  On  days 
when  we  entered  the  mine  with  a  gray 
sky  above,  or  with  a  cold  rain  beating  in 
our  faces,  there  was  a  depression  of  spirits 
that  made  the  blackness  more  dense  and 
unyielding,  and  the  lights  from  the  lamps 
seemed  less  cheerful. 


46         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

Sometimes  the  roof  was  bad  in  the  rooms, 
and  I  soon  learned  from  the  older  miners 
to  enter  my  room  each  morning  testing 
gingerly  with  my  pit-lamp  for  the  presence 
of  gas  and  reaching  far  up  with  my  pick, 
tapping  on  the  smooth  stone  roof  to  test 
its  strength.  If  the  steel  rang  clean  against 
the  stone,  the  roof  was  good;  but  if  it 
sounded  dull  and  drummy,  it  might  be 
dangerous.  Sometimes,  when  the  roof  was 
weak,  we  would  call  for  the  section  boss 
and  prop  up  the  loosened  stone;  but  more 
often,  the  men  ran  their  risk.  We  worked 
so  many  days  in  safety  that  it  seemed 
strange  that  death  could  come;  and  when 
it  did  come,  it  came  so  suddenly  that  there 
was  a  surprise,  and  the  next  day  we  began 
i  to  forget. 

I  had  heard  much  of  the  dangers  that 
the  miner  is  exposed  to,  but  little  has  been 
said  of  the  risks  to  which  the  men  through 


DANGERS  OF  THE  MINE  47 

carelessness  subject  themselves.  Death 
comes  frequently  to  the  coal-miners  from 
a  "blown-out  shot."  "When  the  blast  is  in- 
serted in  the  drill-hole,  several  dummy 
cartridges  are  packed  in  for  tamping.  If 
these  are  properly  made  and  tamped,  the 
force  of  the  explosion  will  tear  down  the 
coal  properly,  but  if  the  man  has  been 
careless  in  his  work,  the  tamps  will  blow 
out  like  shot  from  a  gun-barrel,  and  ignit- 
ing such  gas  or  coal-dust  as  may  be  pres- 
ent, kill  or  badly  burn  the  shot-firers. 
The  proper  tamping  is  wet  clay,  but  it  is 
impossible  to  convince  the  men  of  it,  and 
nine  out  of  ten  will  tamp  their  holes  with 
dummies  filled  with  coal-dust  (itself  a 
dangerous  explosive)  scooped  up  from 
the  side  of  the  track.  Again,  powder-kegs 
are  sometimes  opened  in  a  manner  which 
seems  almost  the  act  of  an  insane  man. 
Eather  than  take  the  trouble  to  unscrew 


48         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

the  cap  in  the  head  of  the  tin  powder-keg 
and  pour  out  the  powder  through  its  nat- 
ural opening,  the  miner  will  drive  his  pick 
through  the  head  of  the  keg  and  pour  the 
powder  from  the  jagged  square  hole  he 
has  punched.  And  these  are  but  two  of 
the  many  voluntary  dangers  which  a  little 
care  on  the  part  of  the  men  themselves 
would  obviate. 

A  mine  always  seems  more  or  less  pop- 
ulated when  the  day-shift  is  down,  for 
during  the  hours  of  the  working  day,  in 
every  far  corner,  at  the  head  of  every  en- 
try and  room,  there  are  men  drilling,  load- 
ing, and  ever  pushing  forward  its  bound- 
aries. At  five  o'clock  the  long  line  of 
blackened  miners  which  is  formed  at  the 
foot  of  the  hoisting-shaft,  begins  to  leave 
the  mine ;  and  by  six  o'clock,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  few  inspectors  and  fire-bosses, 
the  mine  is  deserted. 


DANGERS  OF  THE  MINE  49 

The  night-shift  began  at  eight,  and  it 
was  as  though  night  had  suddenly  been 
hastened  forward,  to  step  from  the  soft 
evening  twilight  on  the  hoist,  and,  in  a 
brief  second,  leave  behind  the  world  and 
the  day  and  plunge  back  into  the  darkness 
of  the  mine. 

We  were  walking  up  the  track  from  the 
mine-bottom  toward  Six  West  South, — 
Billy  Wild,  Pat  Davis,  two  track-repair- 
ers, and  I.  As  we  turned  the  corner  by 
the  run- around,  there  came  suddenly  from 
far  off  in  the  thick  stillness  a  faint  tremor 
and  a  strong  current  of  air.  The  "  shoot- 
ers "  were  at  work.  For  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
we  walked  on,  stopping  every  once  in  a 
while  to  listen  to  the  far-off  "  boom "  of 
the  blasts  that  came  through  the  long  tun- 
nels, faint  and  distant,  as  though  muffled 
by  many  folds  of  heavy  cloth.  We  pushed 
open  the  big  trappers'  door  just  beyond 


50         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

where  First  and  Second  Eight  turn  off 
from  the  main  entry,  and  came  into  the 
faint  yellow  glow  of  a  single  electric  lamp 
that  hung  from  the  low  beamed  roof. 

Beside  the  track  in  a  black  niche  cut 
in  the  wall  of  coal,  two  men  were  working. 
A  safe  twenty  feet  from  them  their  lighted 
pit-lamps  flared  where  they  were  hung  by 
the  hooks  from  one  of  the  props.  Bound, 
black  cans  of  powder  tumbled  together  in 
the  back  of  the  alcove,  a  pile  of  empty 
paper  tubes,  and  great  spools  of  thick, 
white  fuse  lay  beside  them.  We  sat  down 
on  the  edge  of  the  track  at  a  safe  distance 
from  the  open  powder,  and  watched  them 
as  they  blew  open  the  long,  white  tubes 
and  with  a  battered  funnel  poured  in  the 
coarse  grains  of  powder  until  the  smooth, 
round  cartridge  was  filled,  a  yard  or  two 
of  white  fuse  hanging  from  its  end.  In 
fifteen  minutes  they  had  finished,  and  one 


DANGERS  OF  THE  MINE  51 

of  the  men  gathered  in  his  arms  the  pile 
of  completed  cartridges  and  joined  us  in 
the  main  entry. 

A  few  minutes  later,  as  we  neared  the 
heading,  a  sudden  singing  "boom"  came 
down  strongly  against  the  air-current  and 
bent  back  the  flames  in  our  pit-lamps. 
Far  off  in  the  blackness  ahead,  a  point  of 
light  marked  the  direction  of  the  tunnel; 
another  appeared.  Suddenly,  from  the  thick 
silence,  came  the  shrill  whine  of  the  air- 
drills.  A  couple  of  lamps,  like  yellow 
tongues  of  flame,  shone  dimly  in  the  head 
of  the  tunnel  and  the  air  grew  thick  with 
a  flurry  of  fine  coal-dust.  Then  below  the 
bobbing  lights  appeared  the  bodies  of  two 
men,  stripped  to  the  waist,  the  black  coat- 
ing of  dust  that  covered  them  moist  with 
gleaming  streaks  of  sweat. 

"How  many  holes  have  you  drilled?" 
yelled  Wild,  his  voice  drowned  by  the 


52         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

scream  of  the  long  air-drill  as  the  writhing 
bit  tore  into  the  coal. 

There  was  a  final  convulsive  grind  as 
the  last  inch  of  the  six-foot  drill  sank  home, 
then  the  sudden  familiar  absence  of  sound 
save  for  the  hiss  of  escaping  air. 

"All  done  here." 

Slowly  the  two  men  pulled  the  long 
screw  blade  from  the  black  breast  of  the 
coal,  the  air-hose  writhing  like  a  wounded 
snake  about  their  ankles.  The  driller  who 
had  spoken  wiped  his  sweaty  face  with 
his  hands,  his  eyes  blinking  with  the  dust. 
He  picked  up  his  greasy  coat  from  beside 
the  track  and  wrapped  it  around  his  wet 
shoulders. 

"Look  out  for  the  gas,"  he  shouted. 
"  There  is  a  bit  here,  up  high." 

He  raised  his  lamp  slowly  to  the  jagged 
roof.  A  quick  blue  flame  suddenly  ex- 
panded from  the  lamp  and  puffed  down 
at  him  as  he  took  away  his  hand. 


DANGERS  OF  THE  MINE  53 

In  the  black  end  of  the  tunnel  six  small 
holes,  each  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter 
and  six  feet  deep,  invisible  in  the  darkness 
and  against  the  blackness  of  the  coal, 
marked  where  the  blasts  were  to  be  placed. 
On  the  level  floor,  stretching  from  one 
wall  of  the  entry  to  the  other,  the  under- 
cut had  been  ground  out  with  the  chain- 
machines  by  the  machine -men  during 
the  afternoon,  and  as  soon  as  the  blasts 
were  in  and  the  fuses  lighted,  the  sudden 
wrench  of  these  charges  would  tear  down 
a  solid  block  of  coal  six  feet  deep  by  the 
height  and  depth  of  the  entry,  to  fall 
crushed  and  broken  into  the  sump-cut, 
ready  for  the  loaders  on  the  following 
morning. 

Selecting  and  examining  each  cartridge, 
the  shooters  charged  the  drill-holes.  Two 
cartridges  of  black  powder,  tamped  in 
with  a  long  copper-headed  rod,  then  dum- 


54         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

mies  of  clay  for  wads,  leaving  hanging 
like  a  great  white  cord  from  each  charged 
drill-hole  a  yard  of  the  long,  white  fuse. 

We  turned  and  tramped  down  the  tun- 
nel and  squatted  on  the  track  a  safe  fifty 
yards  away.  Down  at  the  end  of  the  tun- 
nel we  had  just  deserted  bobbed  the  tiny 
flames  of  the  lights  in  the  shooters'  pit- 
caps.  There  was  a  faint  glow  of  sparks. 
"Coming!"  they  yelled  out  through  the 
darkness,  and  we  heard  them  running  as 
we  saw  their  lights  grow  larger.  For  a 
minute  we  silently  waited.  Then  from  the 
far  end  of  the  tunnel,  muffled  and  booming 
like  the  breaking  of  a  great  wave  in  some 
vast  cave,  came  a  singing  roar,  now  like 
the  screech  of  metal  hurled  through  the 
air,  and  the  black  end  of  the  tunnel  flamed 
suddenly  defiant;  a  solid  square  of  crim- 
son flames,  like  the  window  of  a  burning 
house;  and  a  roar  of  flying  air  drove  past 


DANGERS  OF  THE  MINE          55 

us,  putting  out  our  lights  and  throwing 
us  back  against  the  rails. 

"  It  ?s  a  windy  one,"  yelled  Wild.  "  Look 
out  for  the  rib-shots." 

Like  a  final  curtain  in  a  darkened  the- 
atre, a  slow  pall  of  heavy  smoke  sank 
down  from  the  roof,  and  as  it  touched  the 
floor,  a  second  burst  of  flame  tore  it  sud- 
denly upward,  and  far  down  the  entry, 
the  trappers'  door  banged  noisily  in  the 
darkness.  Then  we  crept  back  slowly, 
breathing  hard  in  an  air  thick  with  dust 
and  the  smell  of  the  burnt  black  powder, 
to  the  end  of  the  tunnel,  where  the  whole 
face  had  been  torn  loose  —  a  great  pile  of 
broken  coal  against  the  end  of  the  entry. 

Often,  bits  of  paper  from  the  cartridges, 
lighted  by  the  blast,  will  start  a  fire  in 
the  piles  of  coal-dust  left  by  the  machine- 
men  ;  and  before  the  shooters  leave  a  room 
that  has  been  blasted,  an  examination  must 


56         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

be  made  in  order  to  prevent  the  possibility 
of  fire. 

All  night  long  we  moved  from  one  en- 
try to  another,  blasting  down  in  each  six 
feet  more  of  the  tunnel,  which  would  be 
loaded  out  on  the  following  day;  and  it 
was  four  in  the  morning  before  the  work 
was  finished. 

It  was  usually  between  four  and  five  in 
the  morning  when  we  left  the  mine.  As 
we  stepped  from  the  hoist  and  left  behind 
us  the  confining  darkness,  the  smoky  air, 
and  the  sense  of  oppression  and  silence 
of  the  mine  below,  the  soft,  fresh  morning 
air  in  the  early  dawn,  or  sometimes  the 
cool  ram,  seemed  never  more  refreshing. 
One  does  not  notice  the  silence  of  a  mine 
so  much  upon  leaving  the  noise  of  the 
outer  world  and  entering  the  maze  of  tun- 
nels on  the  day's  work,  as  when  stepping 
off  the  hoist  in  the  early  morning  hours 


DANGERS  OF  THE  MINE          57 

when  the  world  is  almost  still:  the  sudden 
sense  of  sound  and  of  living  things  em- 
phasizes, by  contrast,  the  silence  of  the 
underworld.  There  is  a  noise  of  life,  and 
the  very  motion  of  the  air  seems  to  carry 
sounds.  A  dog  barking  half  a  mile  away 
in  the  sleeping  town  sounds  loud  and 
friendly,  and  there  seems  to  be  a  sudden 
clamor  that  is  almost  bewildering. 

"We  were  walking  down  the  north  entry 
one  early  morning  and  had  just  passed 
through  the  last  brattice  door  when  Joe 
Brass,  one  of  the  shot-firers,  stopped,  sud- 
denly alert  and  silent,  and  held  up  his 
hand.  Sound  means  but  little  in  a  mine, 
and  eyes  can  but  rarely  detect  danger. 

"  Do  you  smell  anything  ? "  he  asked. 

We  sniffed  the  cool  air  as  it  fanned  past 
us  through  the  door  that  we  still  held 
open.  Almost  imperceptible,  a  curious, 


58         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE; 

foreign  odor  seemed  to  hang  in  the  mov- 
ing current. 

"  "Wood-smoke,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

We  turned  and  walked  back  and  closed 
the  door  behind  us.  The  smell  of  the 
smoke  defined  itself  at  we  walked  for- 
ward. Through  the  next  door  it  hung 
strong  in  the  air,  and  with  it  the  oily  smell 
of  burning  coal.  Then  a  light  appeared 
down  the  entry,  and  from  its  jerky  motion, 
we  knew  that  the  man  was  running  before 
we  heard  his  feet  clumping  over  the  rough 
ties. 

"  There 's  a  fire  in  Room  26,"  he  yelled, 
before  we  could  see  him.  The  word  had 
already  reached  bottom  and  as  we  paused 
at  the  turning  of  the  entry,  trying  to  see 
whether  to  turn  to  the  right  or  the  left, 
there  was  a  sudden  roar  behind  us,  and 
the  glow  of  a  locomotive  headlight.  As 
we  waited,  the  locomotive  came  rattling 


DANGERS  OF  THE  MINE          59 

down  the  tunnel,  half  a  dozen  men  crouched 
low  on  its  black  frame,  and  behind  it,  on 
a  single  flat  car,  the  great  steel  water-tank 
that  was  reserved  for  such  emergencies. 
Shouting  questions,  we  swung  on  behind. 
The  motor  followed  the  switch  and  turned 
sharply  down  to  the  right.  Through  the 
next  door  the  smoke  became  suddenly 
thick.  A  strong  smell,  almost  as  of  burn- 
ing oil;  the  heavy,  pungent  smell  of  soft 
coal  on  fire.  In  the  dead  air  of  the  entry 
it  hung  still  and  motionless,  like  yellow 
fog,  and  as  we  jumped  off  the  truck  and 
ran  down  the  entry  behind  the  locomotive, 
we  crouched  low  to  keep  our  eyes  clear, 
for  there  were  still  a  couple  of  feet  of  clean 
air  along  the  bottom  of  the  tunnel.  From 
ahead  of  us  came  the  sound  of  voices  and 
then,  through  the  smoke,  we  saw  the  lights 
of  the  men,  like  yellow  tongues  of  flame, 
detached  from  their  bodies,  which  were 


60         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

hidden  in  the  thick  blanket  of  smoke.  The 
coal  in  one  of  the  rooms  off  the  main  en- 
try which  the  shooters  had  blasted  earlier 
in  the  night  was  on  fire,  and  the  heat  and 
smoke  were  too  intense  to  allow  the  men 
to  reach  it  with  the  water.  Shouting  at 
each  other  in  the  blinding  smoke  and  dark- 
ness, with  the  dull,  steady  heat  of  the  in- 
visible fire  bringing  the  sweat  in  streams 
from  our  bodies,  we  worked  to  cut  off  the 
room  from  the  rest  of  the  mine  by  build- 
ing across  its  broad  mouth,  where  it  joined 
the  main  entry,  a  solid  stopping  of  wood 
and  plaster.  A  dozen  men,  in  minute  re- 
lays, held  a  long  strip  of  canvas  against 
the  roof,  while  the  rest  of  us  pushed  and 
wedged  into  place  between  the  floor  and 
the  low  roof,  a  string  of  props  or  posts 
across  the  room  mouth.  As  the  smoke 
thickened  and  the  heat  grew  more  intense, 
the  relays  became  shorter  and  we  suddenly 


DANGERS  OF  THE  MINE          61 

dived  from  the  dense,  choking  air  above, 
to  lie  flat  along  the  floor,  sucking  in  the 
cool,  clean  air  that  lay  above  the  water 
beside  the  tracks.  In  half  an  hour  we  had 
erected  a  long  line  of  posts,  with  the  can- 
vas nailed  against  it ;  and  a  temporary  stop- 
ping was  effected.  By  that  time  a  dozen 
of  the  timbermen  had  arrived,  and  motors 
had  dragged  up  from  the  mine-bottom 
piles  of  matched  boards  and  sacks  of  wood- 
fibre  plaster.  An  hour  more  and  the  stop- 
ping was  reinforced  with  a  solid  fence  of 
boards  and  then,  mixing  the  plaster  in  the 
water  beside  the  track  and  using  our  hands 
as  trowels,  we  caulked  the  seams,  the 
plaster  drying  quickly  against  the  hot 
boards.  Three  hours  later  the  work  was 
done,  and  the  air-current  moving  steadily 
down  the  entry  had  blown  away  the  last 
shreds  of  the  thick  and  choking  smoke. 
In  the  light  of  our  lamps  and  lanterns,  we 


62         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

again  examined  the  long,  white  wall  that 
we  had  erected  across  the  room-mouth. 
A  few  more  handfuls  of  plaster  on  cracks 
through  which  a  thin  trickle  of  smoke  still 
puffed  outward;  and  the  work  was  done. 
Two  months  later,  when  the  fire,  cut  off 
from  the  air  of  the  mine,  had  smothered 
itself  to  extinction,  the  wall  was  torn  down, 
the  gas  blown  out,  and  work  once  more 
resumed. 


MINERS'  SUPERSTITIONS 

TT  is  natural  that  a  mine  should  have 
JL  its  superstitions.  The  darkness  of  the 
underworld,  the  silence,  the  long  hours 
of  solitary  work,  are  all  conditions  ideal 
to  the  birth  of  superstition;  and  when  the 
workmen  are  drawn  from  many  national- 
ities, it  is  again  but  natural  that  the  same 
should  be  true  of  their  superstitions. 

One  night  when  Carlson,  the  general 
manager,  was  sitting  in  his  office,  there 
was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  two  loaders, 
from  the  Hartz  Mountains,  came  into  the 
room,  talking  excitedly,  with  Little  Dick 
the  interpreter.  Their  story  was  discon- 
nected, but  Carlson  gathered  the  main 


64         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

facts.  They  had  been  working  in  the  north- 
west corner  of  the  mine,  in  an  older  part 
of  the  workings,  and  on  their  way  out 
that  afternoon,  as  they  were  passing  an 
abandoned  room,  they  had  noticed  several 
lights  far  up  at  its  heading.  Knowing  that 
the  room  was  no  longer  being  worked, 
and  curious  as  to  who  should  be  there, 
they  had  walked  up  quietly  toward  the 
lights.  Here  their  story  became  more  con- 
fused. There  were  two  men,  they  insisted 
—  and  they  were  certain  that  they  were 
dwarfs.  They  had  noticed  them  carefully, 
and  described  them  as  little  men,  with 
great  picks,  who  were  digging  or  burying 
something  in  the  clay  floor  at  the  foot  of 
one  of  the  props.  A  sudden  terror  had 
seized  them,  and  they  had  not  delayed  to 
make  further  investigation;  but  on  the 
way  out  they  had  talked  together  and  had 
decided  that  these  two  strange  creatures 


MINERS'  SUPERSTITIONS          65 

had  been  burying  some  treasure :  "  a  pot 
of  gold,"  one  of  them  argued. 

Carlson  was  interested.  The  questions 
and  answers  grew  more  definite  and  more 
startling.  The  two  men  whom  they  had 
seen  were  certainly  hump-backed.  They 
were  wielding  enormous  picks,  and  one 
of  the  loaders  believed  that  he  had  seen 
them  put  something  into  the  hole.  Then 
came  their  request  that  they  might  be  al- 
lowed to  go  back  that  night  into  the  mine, 
and  with  their  own  tools  go  to  this  aban- 
doned room  and  dig  for  the  buried  treas- 
ure. It  was  against  precedent  to  allow 
any  but  the  night-shift  into  the  mine,  but 
superstitions  are  demoralizing,  and  the 
best  remedy  seemed  to  be  to  allow  them 
to  prove  themselves  mistaken.  An  hour 
later  they  were  lowered  on  the  hoist;  and 
all  that  night,  alone  in  the  silence  of  the 
mine,  they  dug  steadily  in  the  heading 


66         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

of  the  abandoned  room,  but  no  treasure 
was  discovered.  All  the  next  night  they 
dug,  and  it  was  not  until  seven  nights' 
labor  had  turned  over  a  foot  and  a  half  of 
the  hard  clay  of  the  entire  heading  that 
they  abandoned  their  search. 

It  is  the  custom  of  the  men,  when  they 
leave  the  mine  at  the  close  of  the  shift,  to 
hide  their  tools;  and  the  imaginations  of 
the  loaders,  worked  upon  by  eight  hours 
of  solitary  work,  had  doubtless  seen  in 
the  forms  of  two  of  their  companions 
who  were  hiding  their  shovels  the  tradi- 
tional gnomes  of  their  own  Hartz  Moun- 
tains. 

In  another  part  of  the  mine  another  su- 
perstition was  given  birth  that  led  to  a 
more  unfortunate  result.  This  time  it  hap- 
pened among  the  Croatians,  and,  unfortu- 
nately, the  story  was  told  throughout  the 
boarding-houses  before  the  bosses  learned 


MINERS'  SUPERSTITIONS          67 

of  it,  and  one  morning  a  great  section  of 
the  mine  was  abandoned  by  the  men.  Up 
in  the  headings  of  one  of  the  entries  —  so 
the  story  went  — lived  the  ghost  of  a  white 
mule.  As  the  men  worked  with  the  coal 
before  them,  and  the  black  emptiness  of 
the  tunnel  behind,  this  phantom  mule  would 
materialize  silently  from  the  wall  of  the 
entry,  and  with  the  most  diabolical  ex- 
pression upon  its  face,  creep  quietly  down 
behind  its  intended  victim,  who  —  all  un- 
conscious of  its  presence — would  be  oc- 
cupied in  loading  his  car.  If  the  man 
turned,  and  for  even  a  fraction  of  a  second 
his  eyes  rested  upon  the  phantom,  the 
shape  would  suddenly  disappear;  but  if 
he  were  less  fortunate  and  that  unconscious 
feeling  of  a  presence  behind  him  did  not 
compel  him  to  turn  his  eyes,  the  phantom 
mule  would  sink  his  material  teeth  deep 
into  the  miner's  shoulder;  and  death  would 


68         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

follow.  It  was  fortunate,  indeed,  that  the 
only  two  men  who  had  been  visited  by 
this  unpleasant  apparition  had  turned  and 
observed  him. 

Perhaps  it  had  been  the  sudden  white 
glare  cast  from  the  headlight  of  a  loco- 
motive far  down  the  entry,  or  perhaps  it 
had  been  entirely  the  imagination,  but,  at 
all  events,  a  man  had  come  from  his  work 
early  one  afternoon  inspired  with  this 
strange  vision,  and  the  next  day  another 
man  also  had  seen  it.  The  story  was  noised 
around,  and  two  days  later  the  men  stuck 
firmly  to  their  determination  that  they 
would  not  enter  that  pail  of  the  mine. 
Fortunately  for  the  superintendent,  a  crowd 
of  Bulgarians  had  just  arrived  from  East 
St.  Louis  seeking  employment.  The  Croa- 
tians  were  sent  into  another  part  of  the  mine 
to  work,  a  mile  from  the  haunted  entries, 
where  there  were  no  unpleasant  ghosts  of 


MINERS'  SUPERSTITIONS          69 

white  mules  to  disturb  their  labors;  and 
so  long  as  the  mine  remained  in  operation 
there  is  no  further  record  of  the  unpleas- 
ant ramblings  of  this  fantastical  animal; 
at  least,  none  of  the  Bulgarians  ever  saw 
it. 

"With  the  mule  came  the  ghost  of  a  little 
white  dog;  but  for  some  curious  reason, 
although  the  dog  was  reported  by  many 
to  have  run  out  from  abandoned  rooms 
and  barked  at  the  men  as  they  stumbled 
up  the  entry,  but  little  attention  was  paid 
to  it,  and  it  seemed  to  possess  no  particu- 
larly disturbing  influence. 

There  were  many  negroes  in  the  mine, 
and  they,  too,  had  their  "  h'ants"  and  su- 
perstitions; but  these  were  of  a  more  or- 
dinary nature.  In  Room  2,  Third  West 
South,  a  sudden  fall  of  rock  from  the  roof 
had  caught  two  miners.  Tons  of  stone  had 
followed,  and  in  a  second,  two  men  had 


70        A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

been  crushed,  killed,  and  buried.  Death 
must  have  been  instantaneous,  and  months 
of  labor  would  have  been  required  to  re- 
cover the  bodies,  which  were  probably 
crushed  out  of  human  resemblance;  but 
even  years  after  this  happened,  Eoom  2 
was  one  that  was  carefully  avoided  by  all 
the  negroes,  and  if  it  ever  became  neces- 
sary for  one  of  them  to  pass  it  alone,  he 
would  always  go  by  on  the  run;  for  back 
under  the  tons  of  white  shale  that  came 
down  straight  across  the  room-mouth  the 
ghosts  of  Old  Man  Gleason  and  another, 
whose  name  was  forgotten,  still  remained 
—  immortal. 

It  was  to  prevent  the  establishment  of 
such  superstitions  that  the  shift  was  always 
called  off  for  the  day  if  a  man  was  killed 
in  the  mine;  and  the  next  morning  when 
the  men  returned  to  their  work,  the  sec- 
tion boss  of  that  section  in  which  the  un- 


MINERS'  SUPERSTITIONS          71 

fortunate  miner  had  met  his  death  took 
particular  care  to  place  several  men  to- 
gether at  that  place  in  order  that  no  su- 
perstition might  grow  up  around  it. 


VI 

FIRE 

IT  was  about  six  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
and  the  greater  part  of  the  day-shift 
had  left  the  mine.  Out  in  some  of  the  far 
headings  of  the  workings  a  few  men  re- 
mained, finishing  up  their  day's  work,  and 
down  in  the  motor-pits  a  dozen  men  were 
overhauling  one  of  the  big  electric  loco- 
motives. That  day  the  skips  had  hoisted 
from  the  mine  an  almost  record  tonnage. 
The  great  underground  city,  its  railroad 
system,  its  entire  plant,  were  in  perfect 
order;  and,  as  is  often  the  case,  the 
thought  of  disaster  doubtless  never  oc- 
curred to  the  men  who  still  remained  in 
its  black  tunnels. 

Old  Man  Davis,  the  scale-master,  folded 


FIRE  73 

up  his  report  for  the  day  and  was  walking 
down  the  track  toward  bottom,  when  he 
met  a  trackman  who  came  running  out 
from  a  cross-cut  between  the  main  entries. 

*s 

"  Mr.  Davis!  "  he  yelled,  "  come  over  this 
way.  I  think  I  smell  fire  in  C  entry."  Half 
a  dozen  of  us  who  were  sitting  on  some 
sacks  of  plaster,  waiting  for  the  hoist  to 
be  lowered,  jumped  up  and  followed  them 
through  the  cross-cut  and  into  the  parallel 
entry.  It  was  a  "return"  for  the  air-cur- 
rent, and  the  wind  which  came  pressing 
against  us  had  passed  through  the  whole 
east  section  of  the  mine  before  reaching 
us,  and  would  carry  on  its  current  the 
smoke  of  any  fire  that  there  might  be  in 
that  part  of  the  mine.  We  stood  on  the 
track  for  a  minute  and  sniffed  the  dead, 
warm  air.  No  one  said  anything.  Then  we 
walked  down  the  track  to  where  First  and 
Second  West  South  turned  sharply  and  at 


74         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

right  angles  to  C  entry.  Again  we  stopped, 
and  here,  of  a  sudden,  strong  on  the  air 
came  the  soft,  pungent  smell  of  burning 
wood.  A  half -hour  before  the  last  of  the 
miners  had  probably  come  out  through 
this  entry,  and  in  those  scant  thirty  min- 
utes whatever  fire  existed  there  must  have 
been  ignited. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  down  these 
two  entries,  which  ran  on  either  side  of  a 
third  entry,  or  "  air-course,"  was  an  "  air- 
split."  Here  the  air  from  the  third  tunnel 
was  divided  by  a  door,  to  pass  in  dimin- 
ished volume  to  the  right  and  to  the  left. 
The  air  passing  out  of  the  air-course  to 
the  left  entered  the  entry  known  as  Sec- 
ond "West  South,  and  as  we  neared  this 
spot  the  strong  smell  of  the  wood-smoke 
that  was  already  visible  in  the  air  told  us 
that  the  fire  must  be  in  the  woodwork  of 
the  air-split  itself.  Then  suddenly  the 


FIRE  75 

smoke  grew  thick  and  enveloped  us,  and 
mingled  with  the  smell  of  burning  wood 
we  caught  for  the  first  time  the  oily  smell 
of  burning  coal.  The  fire  was  in  the  air- 
split  and,  fanned  by  the  strong  air-current 
from  the  air-course  behind  it,  the  entire 
framework  and  the  door  itself  were  in  a 
blaze,  and  around  the  walls  on  either  side 
and  beside  the  track,  the  coal  was  already 
glowing,  a  red  ring  of  flame. 

Defective  wiring  might  have  caused  the 
fire,  but  this  was  not  likely;  its  location  and 
nature  suggested  another  possibility,  but 
so  immediate  was  the  danger  that  investi- 
gation was  impossible,  and  its  origin  was 
never  conclusively  explained. 

So  rapidly  the  fire  increased  that  it  was 
now  beyond  our  control  with  such  means 
of  fighting  it  as  were  at  hand,  and,  with- 
out stopping,  a  dozen  of  the  men  turned 
and  ran  back  down  the  entry  to  get  a 


76         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

motor  and  the  water-carts.  Meanwhile,  the 
entry  became  choking  with  the  heavy 
smoke.  Down  in  the  main  bottom,  at  the 
foot  of  the  shafts,  it  now  hung  in  the  air 
like  a  thin  fog,  and  by  the  time  that  one 
of  the  big  motors  came  pushing  a  couple 
of  water-carts  down  the  track,  the  men 
at  the  top  of  the  shafts  had  detected 
the  smell  of  smoke,  and  the  alarm  of  fire 
was  sounded. 

The  suddenness  of  the  fire,  and  the  fact 
that  practically  all  of  the  men,  and  espe- 
cially the  head  men,  were  at  that  time  at 
supper  in  the  town,  crippled  the  small 
force  who  were  endeavoring  to  stem  its 
rapid  march  down  the  entry.  Coming 
strong  on  the  air-current,  but  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  separated  it  from  the  mine-bottom, 
the  vitals  of  the  mine.  If  the  fire  reached 
here,  all  was  lost.  By  the  time  the  water- 
carts  had  arrived,  the  volume  of  smoke 


FIRE  77 

was  so  dense  and  the  heat  so  intense  that 
their  use  seemed  almost  absurd,  and  imme- 
diately an  attempt  was  begun  to  connect  a 
hose  line  from  the  nearest  water-pipes.  It 
was  almost  half  an  hour  before  the  coup- 
lings were  made,  and,  blinded  by  the  now 
dense  smoke,  and  half-scorched  by  the 
heat  of  the  flames,  a  dozen  men  endeavored 
ineffectually  to  stem  the  advance  of  the 
fire,  which  now  lined  the  walls  of  the  entry 
like  an  open  furnace. 

For  an  hour  it  seemed  as  though  they 
were  holding  their  own.  Down  at  the 
mouth  of  the  entry  a  gang  of  timbermen 
were  already  building  a  stopping  across 
the  mouth  of  the  entry,  in  case  the  men 
with  the  hose-line  found  it  impossible  to 
check  the  advance  of  the  fire.  Suddenly, 
Tom  Cox,  who  was  holding  the  nozzle  of 
the  first  hose,  sank  to  his  knees,  and  in  the 
second  that  followed,  four  men  beside  him 


78         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

caught  their  hands  to  their  necks  and  fell 
beside  him  along  the  track.  The  water  and 
the  fire  had  generated  in  the  two  hundred 
yards  of  now  burning  entry  a  wall  of  the 
invisible  "white-damp,"  and  this,  driven 
like  the  smoke  by  the  air,  suddenly  over- 
came the  men  who  were  fighting  at  the 
edge  of  the  flames.  The  question  of  life 
and  death  now  entered,  for  the  fire  —  un- 
checked —  was  rapidly  marching  down  the 
tunnel  toward  the  bodies  of  the  uncon- 
scious men.  From  the  mouth  of  the  entry, 
the  timbermen,  bending  low  to  catch  the 
clean  air  below  the  smoke,  fought  up  into 
the  heat  and  dragged  out  the  bodies  of 
their  unconscious  companions,  and  then, 
with  frenzied  haste,  continued  their  work 
on  the  half-completed  stopping. 

It  was  known  that  in  some  parts  of  the 
mine  men  were  still  at  work  who  were 
unconscious  of  the  fire,  and  it  was  neces- 


FIRE  79 

sary  to  warn  them,  that  they  might  make 
their  escape.  Besides  these  there  was  an- 
other band  of  a  half-dozen  men  who  had 
endeavored  to  reach  the  fire  from  the  other 
side,  and  who,  ignorant  of  the  sudden 
danger,  must  also  be  warned.  With  three 
men,  Charley  Swenson  determined  to  visit 
the  working  parts  of  the  mine  which  lay 
to  the  left  of  the  burning  entry  and  ex- 
tended far  behind  it.  Here  there  were  men 
working.  Within  half  an  hour  the  alarm 
had  been  given  and  the  warning  party 
started  back.  Half  a  mile  from  the  mine- 
bottom,  the  party  stopped  for  an  instant 
as  the  sound  of  an  explosion  reached  their 
ears,  and  they  realized  that  the  gas  gen- 
erated by  the  burning  coal  was  beginning 
to  explode  somewhere  in  the  mine.  To 
them  it  was  no  longer  a  question  of  sav- 
ing the  mine,  but  of  preserving  [their  own 
lives. 


80         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

Beside  the  track  stood  one  of  the  elec- 
tric locomotives.  Swenson  noticed  it  and 
stopped  behind  his  companions,  thinking 
that  by  using  the  locomotive  they  could  get 
more  quickly  to  bottom.  He  jumped  into 
the  low  driver's  seat  before  he  noticed  that 
the  trolley-pole  was  turned  the  wrong 
way.  Stumbling  out  again,  he  pulled  the 
pole  from  the  wire  and  turned  it  and  then 
crawled  back  into  the  driver's  seat.  As 
his  hand  reached  for  the  grip  of  the  con- 
troller, a  sudden  dizziness  seized  him  and 
he  fell  forward  unconscious  on  the  frame 
of  the  machine.  The  white-damp  was  pene- 
trating all  parts  of  the  mine.  A  minute 
later  —  like  a  hurried  funeral  procession 
— >  another  group  of  men  came  stumbling 
down  the  entry,  dragging  two  of  their 
comrades  who  had  been  overcome  by  the 
gas;  and  to  them  Swenson  owed  his 
life. 


FIRE  81 

The  mine-bottom  was  now  filled  with 
smoke,  and  the  deadly  gas  in  diluted 
quantities  hung  invisible  in  the  air.  At- 
tempts to  stem  the  course  of  the  fire  were 
realized  to  be  useless,  and  the  business 
now  became  that  of  getting  the  men  from 
the  mine  and  sealing  the  shafts  at  the  top. 
Like  the  officers  of  a  sinking  ship,  the 
mine-manager  and  the  pit-boss  held  their 
ground  at  the  foot  of  the  man-hoist;  and 
after  the  last  hoist  had  carried  up  the  re- 
mainder of  the  men  who  were  at  bottom, 
they  still  waited,  blinded  in  the  smoke, 
for  a  party  of  three  men  who  had  gone  an 
hour  before  into  some  of  the  more  distant 
workings  to  carry  the  warning,  and  who 
had  not  yet  appeared.  As  the  smoke  grew 
thicker,  they  realized  how  slender  was  the 
chance  that  these  men  would  ever  return, 
but,  notwithstanding,  they  made  one  at- 
tempt to  follow  them  and  succeeded  in 


82         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

groping  their  way  into  C  entry.  The  fire 
was  already  in  the  entry  mouth,  and 
through  the  smoke  they  saw  the  yellow 
flames  creeping  over  the  "overcast"  of 
the  air-course.  As  they  turned  back  to 
the  hoist,  far-off  voices  came  through  the 
smoke,  and  two  of  the  missing  men,  drag- 
ging the  third,  came  pitching  down  the 
entry.  A  minute  later  the  little  party  was 
on  the  hoist,  and  the  signal  from  bottom 
to  "  hoist  away  "  was  given.  The  last  men 
were  leaving  the  mine. 

The  brilliancy  of  the  clear  autumn  night 
was  dimming  in  the  first  faint  light  of  the 
dawn  when  the  work  of  sealing  the  shafts 
began.  Up  into  the  cloudless  sky,  through 
the  tangled  steel- work  of  the  tipple,  a  tall 
tower  of  black  smoke  three  hundred  feet 
high  poured  up  into  the  still  air  and  faded 
into  the  dawn.  In  two  hours  the  black  pits 
were  covered,  first,  with  a  layer  of  rails, 


FIRE  83 

and  then  on  this  was  laid  a  solid  bed  of 
concrete;  and  two  hours  later,  only  a  few 
thin  wisps  of  smoke  that  poured  up  through 
cracks  along  the  edges  of  the  great  seal, 
like  steam  beneath  the  lid  of  a  tea-kettle, 
told  of  the  inferno  that  was  seething  in  the 
mine,  four  hundred  feet  below. 

With  the  air  cut  off  and  the  shaft  sealed, 
the  fire  could  live  only  so  long  as  sufficient 
oxygen  remained  to  feed  the  flames,  and  a 
consultation  of  blackened  men  with  drawn, 
tired  faces  who  gathered  in  the  warehouse 
office  determined  that  the  bottom  of  the 
mine  had  been  saved,  and  that  the  advance 
of  the  flames  was  already  checked  and  had 
reached  its  farthest  limit  by  the  cutting 
off  of  the  supply  of  air.  However,  the 
possibilities  were  so  numerous  that  all 
seemed  but  conjecture.  It  was  impossible 
to  tell  how  long  the  fire  could  live  on  the 
air  which  filled  the  eighty-six  miles  of 


84         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

tunnels;  and  so  hurried  had  been  the  final 
exit  from  the  workings,  on  account  of  the 
men  who  had  been  overcome,  that  the  ex- 
act limits  of  the  fire  were  unknown. 


VII 

THE  DEADLY  GASES 

AFTEE  the  labor  and  excitement  of 
the  long  night,  the  sudden  stopping 
of  activity  came  like  the  breaking  of  a 
tightly  stretched  wire.  There  was  nothing 
to  do  but  wait. 

The  day  after  the  shafts  were  sealed,  as 
the  realization  came  that  it  would  be  days, 
weeks,  or  possibly  months  before  opera- 
tions were  resumed,  men  began  leaving 
the  town.  Not  the  old  miners  —  fortunately 
— or  those  who  knew  the  company  best, 
but  the  shifting  population  that  always 
takes  up  the  excuse  of  inactivity  to  move 
on  to  some  new  field.  The  men  with  fam- 
ilies, the  head  men,  and  those  of  the  bet- 
ter sort  remained,  and  at  some  time  each 


86         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

day  every  one  in  the  half-deserted  town 
walked  down  to  examine  the  seals  on  the 
shafts  and  to  ask  questions  of  the  super- 
intendent and  his  assistants,  who  made 
hourly  tests  with  thermometers  as  to  the 
heat  of  the  shafts.  From  these  readings 
it  soon  became  apparent  that  the  sealing 
of  the  shafts  had  abruptly  stopped  the  ad- 
vance of  the  fire,  and  it  was  evident  from 
the  coolness  at  the  shaft-bottoms  —  for  the 
thermometers  were  lowered  through  small 
openings  in  the  seals  down  to  the  bottom 
—  that  there  was  no  fire  anywhere  around 
bottom. 

Meanwhile  the  chief  engineer  located 
a  spot  directly  over  Third  West  South, 
where  the  fire  had  been  hottest.  From  the 
charts  showing  the  curves  of  the  floor  of 
the  mine  it  was  discovered  that  there  was 
a  natural  declivity  starting  at  the  foot  of 
the  shaft  and  descending  to  the  point 


THE  DEADLY  GASES  87 

where  the  fire  had  started,  and  from  there 
the  ground  rose  again  to  the  level  of  the 
mine-bottom  at  the  far  end  of  Third  West 
South  entry,  about  three  quarters  of  a 
mile  from  the  shaft.  The  total  drop  at  the 
air-split,  where  the  fire  had  started,  was 
only  about  fifteen  feet,  but  as  the  height 
of  the  entry  was  ten  feet,  it  was  evident 
that  if  this  basin  could  be  filled  with  water, 
any  fire  that  existed  in  that  entry  could  be 
effectively  extinguished  without  flooding 
the  rest  of  the  mine;  a  feat  that  would  be 
impossible  on  account  of  the  vast  area  of 
the  workings.  Meanwhile,  the  pipes  for 
compressed  air  which  threaded  every  tun- 
nel throughout  the  mine  had  been  filled 
with  water,  and  as  these  pipes  would  nat- 
urally be  red-hot  wherever  fire  existed, 
they  would  burst  and  discharge  the  water 
where  it  was  most  needed. 

At  the  spot  located  by  the  head  engin- 


88         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

eer,  a  drill-hole  was  sunk  and  at  four 
hundred  and  twelve  feet  the  drill  went 
through,  proving  that  the  surveyors'  cal- 
culations had  been  correct.  The  pipe-line 
was  immediately  connected,  and  for  two 
weeks  a  steady  stream  of  water  poured 
into  the  burned  section  of  the  mine.  In 
the  meantime,  almost  hourly  observations 
were  taken  with  the  thermometers  at  the 
shafts,  and  record  was  made  of  the  baro- 
metric conditions  within  the  mine.  A  mine 
that  is  sealed  breathes  at  regular  intervals, 
like  a  human  being,  through  the  natural 
crevices  in  the  rock;  and  even  through 
the  seals  at  the  shaft-mouth  the  vacuum 
created  by  the  burning  out  of  the  oxygen 
in  the  mine  would  draw  in  the  air,  and  for 
several  hours  a  handkerchief  laid  over  one 
of  the  small  openings  in  the  seal  would 
show  a  steady  suction.  Then,  following, 
an  expansion  would  be  noticeable,  and  for 


THE  DEADLY  GASES  89 

an  equal  period  the  strong,  heavy  smells 
of  "  black-damp  "  and  smoke  would  exhale 
from  the  mine. 

So  great  was  the  interest  taken  by  the 
men  in  this  work  of  examination  that  there 
was  little  complaining.  One  morning,  how- 
ever, as  I  walked  back  from  the  power- 
house to  the  town,  I  met  Luke  Davis,  an 
old  miner  of  about  sixty,  who  came  limp- 
ing down  the  street  toward  the  mine,  and 
from  him  I  heard  the  first  complaint  of 
the  kind  (and  many  like  it  followed)  that 
I  had  yet  encountered. 

"  The  air  on  top  ain't  fit  to  live  in,"  he 
said.  "One  day  it's  cold;  next  day  it's 
hot.  I  've  had  rheumatism  ever  since  the 
mine  shut  down.  The  only  place  a  man 
keeps  his  health  is  underground."  And 
there  were  many  others  who  shared  his 
views. 

Four  weeks  after  the  shafts  were  sealed, 


90         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

it  was  determined  that  some  sort  of  per- 
sonal investigation  should  be  made  of  the 
conditions  in  the  mine.  The  thermometers 
showed  that  the  atmosphere  at  bottom  was 
reasonably  cool,  and  the  amount  of  water 
that  had  been  pumped  into  Third  West 
South  was  calculated  to  have  filled  that 
entry  completely.  In  addition  to  this,  the 
steam  generated  by  this  water  must  have 
reached  out  and  extinguished  any  fire  that 
might  have  existed  beyond  the  reach  of 
the  water  itself.  The  temperature  read- 
ings taken  at  the  bottom  of  the  man-hoist 
were  a  few  degrees  higher  than  those  at 
the  bottom  of  the  air-shaft,  and  as  the  di- 
rection of  the  fire  followed  the  course  of 
the  air,  which  led  to  the  foot  of  the  man- 
hoist,  it  was  believed  that  the  safest  en- 
trance into  the  mine  could  be  made  by 
means  of  the  air-shaft,  which  was  located 
on  the  main  or  B  entry,  about  three  hun- 


THE  DEADLY  GASES  91 

dred  feet  from  the  man-hoist  and  coal- 
hoisting  shaft. 

The  second  reason  for  the  choice  lay  in 
the  fact  that  in  opening  this  shaft  for  the 
descent  it  would  not  be  necessary  to  allow 
any  air  to  enter  the  mine,  as  the  top  of  the 
shaft  was  completely  inclosed  by  a  part  of 
the  fan-house — a  massive  dome  of  brick 
and  concrete.  If  the  main  hoisting-shaft 
were  opened,  it  would  be  necessary  to 
construct  some  sort  of  an  air-lock  above 
it,  and  this  would  be  rendered  still  more 
difficult  from  the  fact  that  this  shaft  com- 
prised not  only  the  man-hoist,  but  two 
hoisting-shafts,  and  was,  accordingly,  three 
times  larger  than  the  air-shaft.  The  prin- 
cipal objection  to  the  plan  lay  in  the  fact 
that  the  facilities  for  reaching  bottom  by 
means  of  the  air-shaft  were  very  inade- 
quate, whereas,  by  the  other  entrance,  use 
could  be  made  of  the  hoisting-cage. 


92         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

One  thing  was  apparent;  and  that  was, 
that  under  no  consideration  should  any  air 
be  allowed  to  enter  the  mine,  as  the  en- 
trance of  air  would  not  only  fan  up  any 
latent  fire  which  might  exist,  but  the  mix- 
ture of  air  with  the  almost  pure  gas,  or 
"  after- damp,"  which  existed  throughout 
the  entire  workings,  would  cause  a  most 
violent  explosion,  and  the  death  of  any 
who  were  within  its  reach.  Tests  of  the 
mine-atmosphere  which  had  been  made  by 
chemists  showed  less  than  one  per  cent  of 
oxygen  and  the  presence  of  enormous 
quantities  of  the  various  gases  generated 
by  the  burning  coal.  So  poisonous  was  the 
atmosphere — for  under  no  consideration 
could  it  be  called  "  air"  —  which  filled  the 
shafts  and  every  foot  of  the  tunneling 
below  the  seals,  that  life  would  be  extin- 
guished in  approximately  ninety  seconds, 
should  any  man  be  compelled  to  breathe  it. 


THE  DEADLY  GASES  93 

The  gases  which  filled  the  mine  con- 
sisted principally  of  carbon  monoxide,  or 
white-damp,  and  carbon  dioxide,  or  black- 
damp,  with  a  small  additional  percentage 
of  other  gases.  White-damp  is  the  gas 
most  feared  by  the  miners,  for  its  proper- 
ties render  it  difficult  to  detect,  inasmuch 
as  it  is  tasteless,  odorless,  and  colorless, 
and  when  mixed  in  the  proportion  of  about 
one  part  gas  to  nine  parts  air  is  called  "  fire- 
damp," and  becomes  explosive  to  a  degree 
hard  to  realize  unless  one  has  seen  its  ef- 
fects. Black-damp,  unlike  white-damp,  is 
heavier  than  air:  a  non-explosive  gas 
which  may  be  detected  by  its  peculiar 
odor.  Again,  unlike  the  other,  its  effect 
is  to  suffocate  and  extinguish  fire.  This 
gas  is  so  heavy  and  moves  with  such  a 
sluggish  flow  that,  occasionally,  when 
miners  have  been  trapped  in  a  mine  fol- 
lowing an  explosion  and  have  detected 


94         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

the  black-damp  creeping  in  upon  them  by 
its  smell,  they  have  been  able  to  stop  its 
advance  by  erecting  dams  or  barricades 
along  the  floor,  building  them  higher  as 
the  volume  of  gas  increased,  and  keeping 
the  air  within  their  little  inclosure  com- 
paratively clear  by  rude,  improvised  fans. 
Following  an  explosion,  these  two  gases 
become  mingled  and  form  a  mixed  gas 
possessing  all  the  dreaded  qualities  of 
each,  which  is  known  as  "after-damp," 
and  it  is  this  mixture  of  gases  which  de- 
stroys any  life  that  may  remain  following 
a  mine  disaster. 

To  contend  with  these  almost  impossible 
conditions,  it  was  determined  to  make  the 
descent  equipped  with  air-tight  helmets, 
somewhat  resembling  in  appearance  those 
used  by  deep-sea  divers.  This  ingenious 
device,  which  enables  a  man  to  exist  under 
such  conditions  and  to  conduct  investiga- 


THE  DEADLY  GASES  95 

tions  for  a  period  of  two  hours,  consists  of 
a  steel  headpiece  completely  covering  the 
fore  part  of  the  head  and  leaving  the  ears 
exposed,  made  air-tight  by  means  of  a 
pneumatic  washer  which  passes  in  a  circle 
around  the  top  of  the  head  and  down  each 
side  of  the  face  in  front  of  the  ears,  con- 
necting under  the  chin.  This  washer  is  in- 
flated as  soon  as  the  helmet  is  adjusted,  and 
pressing  out  closely  against  the  steel  shell 
of  the  helmet  on  one  side,  conforms  closely 
to  the  contours  of  the  head  on  the  other, 
leaving  the  ears  exposed.  In  the  front  of 
each  helmet  is  a  round  bull's-eye  of  heavy 
mica,  protected  by  steel  rods;  and  below 
the  bull's-eye,  an  inch  below  the  mouth, 
is  the  main  valve  which  is  closed  immedi- 
ately before  the  man  enters  the  poisoned 
atmosphere. 

From  the  helmet,  in  front,  hangs  a  pair 
of  false  lungs,  or  large  rubber  sacks,  pro- 


96         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

tected  by  a  leather  apron ;  and  on  the  back, 
held  by  straps  over  the  shoulders  and  sup- 
ported by  plates  fitting  closely  to  the  small 
of  the  back,  hangs  a  heavy  knapsack 
weighing  about  forty  pounds.  This  knap- 
sack consists  of  two  steel  cylinders,  each 
one  containing  pure  oxygen  compressed 
to  one  hundred  and  thirty  atmospheres, 
sufficient  to  support  life  for  one  hour, 
the  two  together  being  sufficient  for  two 
hours.  Above  the  oxygen-cylinders  are 
two  cartridges,  or  cans,  containing  loose 
crystals  of  hydrate  of  potassium  sufficient 
to  absorb  two  hours'  exhalation  of  carbonic 
acid  gas.  With  the  helmet  these  cartridges 
and  the  oxygen-cylinders  are  connected  hi 
a  continuous  circuit,  and  as  soon  as  the 
oxygen  is  turned  on  there  is  a  flow  up  from 
the  oxygen-cylinders  by  a  tube  under  the 
right  arm  to  the  helmet,  and  down  under 
the  left  arm  to  the  cartridges,  and  through 


THE  DEADLY  GASES  97 

them  again  to  the  tube  at  the   oxygen 
valve. 

Upon  adjusting  the  helmet,  the  wearer 
takes  several  large  breaths  of  pure  air, 
which  he  exhales  into  the  false  lungs  on 
his  chest,  and  immediately  shuts  the  mouth- 
valve.  At  the  same  instant,  with  his  right 
hand  behind  his  back,  he  turns  on  the  ox- 
ygen, and  this,  regulated  by  valves  to  an 
even  feed  to  last  for  exactly  two  hours, 
forces  itself  up  the  tube  into  the  helmet, 
and  by  its  pressure  and  reverse  suction, 
draws  down  through  the  other  tube  and 
through  the  cans  of  potassium  hydrate  the 
exhaled  breath.  Air  being  a  mixture  of 
pure  nitrogen  and  pure  oxygen,  the  oxy- 
gen cylinders  furnish  one  necessary  ele- 
ment. The  second  —  the  nitrogen  —  al- 
ready exists  in  the  several  breaths  that 
the  man  has  taken  into  the  false  lungs,  for 
the  nitrogen  atoms  are  indestructible  and, 


98         A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

mixed  with  oxygen,  can  be  used  indefi- 
nitely. Passing  through  the  potassium- 
hydrate  cylinders,  the  carbonic  acid  gas  is 
entirely  absorbed,  leaving  the  free  nitro- 
gen atoms  to  unite  with  the  oxygen  below; 
and  so  for  two  hours,  a  steady  stream  of 
air  passes  up  through  the  right-hand  tube, 
and  for  two  hours  the  cans  of  potassium 
hydrate  absorb  the  impurities  exhaled,  and 
pass  on  the  nitrogen  atoms  to  unite  with 
the  fresh  oxygen  ever  flowing  up  from 
the  cylinders. 

In  order  that  the  helmet-men  might 
keep  exact  account  of  the  amount  of  oxy- 
gen used,  there  was  a  clock  fastened  to  the 
knapsack.  When  the  helmet  was  adjusted 
and  the  oxygen  turned  on,  the  hand  of  the 
clock  pointed  to  two  hours,  and  as  the 
pressure  in  the  cylinders  was  reduced,  the 
hand  slid  back  to  one  hour,  thirty  minutes, 
fifteen,  and  finally  zero,  when  it  would  be 


THE  DEADLY  GASES  99 

necessary  to  open  the  valves  and  breathe 
the  outer  air  or  suffocate.  "We  could  not 
see  the  clocks  on  our  own  knapsacks,  as 
they  were  behind  our  backs,  and  so  every 
fifteen  minutes  or  so  we  would  gather  in 
the  gas-filled  tunnels,  and  with  our  electric 
torches  read  the  minutes  remaining  on 
each  other's  clocks.  Thirty  minutes  left 
meant  a  start  for  top,  even  if  we  were  near 
the  hoist.  We  could  take  no  chances.  Un- 
conscious men  are  hard  to  move,  espe- 
cially when  one's  own  air  has  almost  gone. 
It  will  be  clearly  seen  that  it  would  have 
been  impossible  to  lower  a  man  into  the 
mine,  connected  with  the  surface  by  an 
air-hose,  as  in  submarine  diving,  for  the 
extent  of  his  investigations  would  be  lim- 
ited to  an  area  extending  not  more  than  a 
few  yards  from  the  mouth  of  the  shaft; 
and  the  weight  of  four  hundred  feet  of 
such  an  air-line  would  be  liable  to  tear  the 


100       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

hose,  in  which  case  death  would  be  instan- 
taneous. Compressed  air  also  was  imprac- 
ticable, for  a  sufficient  supply  of  com- 
pressed air  to  enable  a  man  to  be  lowered 
to  bottom  and  conduct  his  investigations 
and  return  would,  at  its  highest  compres- 
sion, necessitate  a  cylinder  of  a  size  and 
weight  that  would  make  free  movement 
impossible. 


VIII 

FIGHTING  FOE  THE   MINE 

IT  was  a  cold,  gray  morning  when  a 
dozen  of  the  men  chosen  to  effect  the 
first  descent  into  the  mine  gathered  inside 
the  small  stockade  about  the  air-shaft. 
Outside  the  fence,  unmindful  of  the  rain 
and  cold,  a  hundred  silent,  unexpressive 
faces  pressed  close  against  the  palings  and 
watched  for  what  might  come.  Everything 
was  in  readiness  for  the  descent.  Inside 
the  dome  above  the  air-shaft  the  seal  had 
been  removed;  and  the  double  doors,  form- 
ing a  sort  of  vestibule,  which  connected 
this  room  with  the  outer  world,  made  an 
effective  air-lock  through  which  the  men 
might  enter.  A  large,  square  box,  which 
in  the  time  of  operation  had  been  used  to 


102       A  YtiAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

lower  heavy  supplies,  and  occasionally 
mules,  into  the  mine,  hung  suspended  by 
a  steel  cable  in  the  air-shaft,  and  was  low- 
ered or  raised  by  means  of  an  engine  in 
the  fan-house,  the  cable  running  over  a 
sheave-wheel  in  the  crown  of  the  dome. 

The  air-shaft  consisted  of  two  compart- 
ments :  the  main  shaft,  which  was  fourteen 
by  twelve  feet  —  a  smooth,  board-lined 
shaft,  four  hundred  feet  in  depth;  and  an 
escapement  or  stairway-shaft  beside  it, 
built,  in  compliance  with  the  law  regulat- 
ing coal-mines,  for  use  in  case  of  accident 
to  the  hoisting  apparatus.  The  stairway- 
shaft  was  separated  from  the  air-shaft 
proper  by  a  partition  of  matched  boards, 
and  connected  with  it  at  the  mine-bottom 
by  a  small  door.  From  the  bottom  of  the 
air-shaft  two  ventilating  tunnels  extended, 
one  east,  one  west;  the  east  air-course  on 
a  level  with  the  mine-bottom;  the  west,  by 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE       103 

means  of  an  "overcast"  or  bridge  across 
the  main  entry,  a  passage  at  a  level  of 
about  ten  feet  from  the  bottom  of  the  air- 
shaft.  Thus  to  a  man  standing  at  the  foot 
of  the  air-shaft  facing  the  north,  the  east 
air-course,  on  his  right,  was  on  the  same 
level  as  the  floor  of  the  air-shaft,  the  west 
air-course,  on  his  left,  was  a  square  open- 
ing ten  feet  above  the  ground.  From  these 
conditions  it  would  be  necessary,  in  order 
to  reach  B  entry,  which  ran  under  the 
west  air-course,  to  pass  from  the  bottom 
of  the  air-shaft  through  the  door  at  the 
foot  of  the  escapement-shaft,  and  thence 
by  another  small  door  into  B  entry. 

No  one  knew  what  conditions  would  be 
met  with  at  bottom,  but  it  was  determined 
to  make  a  trial  trip,  lowering  three  men  in 
helmets  to  the  bottom  of  the  air-shaft,  and 
hoisting  them  again  without  allowing  them 
to  leave  the  box;  and,  if  their  trip  were  sue- 


104       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

cessful,  to  send  a  second  crew  of  three 
helmeted  men,  who  would  pass  through 
the  doors  into  the  main  entry  and,  return- 
ing, report  what  conditions  they  had  found 
there.  Preparatory  to  the  descent,  the  box 
was  lowered  until  the  white  mark  on  the 
cable-drum  in  the  engine-house  showed 
that  it  had  reached  bottom,  when  it  was 
hoisted  again.  This  showed  that  there  was 
no  wreckage  of  any  sort  in  the  shaft,  which 
might  have  been  the  case  had  the  fire 
burned  loose  the  shaft-lining. 

At  half -past  nine,  the  first  crew  was 
ready :  volunteers,  selected  for  their  ability 
to  cope  with  emergencies,  who  received 
large  pay  on  account  of  the  dangerous 
nature  of  their  work;  and  with  their  hel- 
mets in  place  and  the  oxygen  turned  on, 
the  outer  door  of  the  fan-house  was  closed 
behind  them,  and  the  rest  of  us  sat  down 
to  wait.  It  was  fully  five  minutes  before 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE       105 

the  squeaking  of  the  big  drum  in  the  fan- 
house  told  us  that  they  had  started.  Inside, 
lying  on  the  floor  at  the  edge  of  the  shaft, 
lay  a  man  in  a  helmet  to  receive  the  sig- 
nals which  might  be  sent  upward  by  the 
men  in  the  box.  The  round  blade  of  a  cir- 
cular saw  had  been  hung  by  a  wire  from 
the  bale  of  the  box  (the  iron  beam  from 
which  it  was  suspended  like  a  basket), 
and  signals  were  given  by  striking  this 
with  a  hammer.  Upon  hearing  a  signal, 
the  man  at  the  edge  of  the  shaft-mouth 
would  immediately  transmit  it  by  puffing 
a  bell-rope  which  rang  a  bell  in  the  engine- 
room.  One  stroke  meant  "stop."  Two 
strokes,  "  haul  up."  Three,  "  lower  away." 
Four,  "  safe  arrival."  Five  strokes  on  the 
saw-blade — which  rang  like  a  great  bell 
— meant  "haul  out  at  top  speed;  danger 
has  been  encountered." 

Three  minutes  after  the  box  had  started 


106       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

its  descent  came  a  sudden  violent  ring  on 
the  bell-rope,  and  the  intense  agony  of 
uncertainty  became  almost  unbearable. 
Then  came  three  bells,  and  we  knew  that 
the  journey  had  been  resumed.  Five  min- 
utes—  for  the  box  had  been  lowered  very 
slowly — and  then  came  the  four  strokes 
denoting  their  arrival;  and  a  minute  later, 
the  two  bells  to  hoist.  Four  minutes  later 
there  was  a  noise  inside  the  house  and, 
with  a  puff  of  smoke,  the  door  burst  open 
and  the  four  helmeted  men,  the  three  who 
had  made  the  trip  and  the  signalman, 
stumbled  out  into  the  light.  The  doors 
were  instantly  closed,  the  helmets  removed, 
and  the  first  story  of  the  descent  into  the 
mine  was  told. 

So  dense  was  the  dead  smoke  in  the 
shaft,  and  so  feeble  the  light  of  the  electric 
torches  which  they  carried,  that  they  had 
seen  nothing.  Their  descent  had  been  un- 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE       107 

eventful  except  once,  when  the  box,  swing- 
ing silently  in  the  shaft,  had  for  a  second 
struck  on  one  of  the  cross-ribs,  and  hence 
their  signal  to  stop.  At  bottom  they  had 
noticed  no  excessive  heat,  although  the 
sweat  which  poured  from  their  bodies 
showed  that  the  temperature  was  far  from 
normal.  But  they  had  seen  no  fire — that 
was  the  main  point. 

An  hour  later  the  second  shift  was 
ready,  of  which  I  was  a  member,  my  com- 
panions being  Delmer,  the  mine-engineer, 
and  Knox,  one  of  the  pit-bosses.  Before 
starting,  all  our  plans  were  carefully  ar- 
ranged :  Delmer  was  to  carry  the  hammer, 
with  which  he  would  signal  on  the  saw- 
blade;  I  was  to  carry  his  electric  torch 
and  my  own;  and  Knox  was  to  pay  espe- 
cial heed  to  the  swinging  of  the  box  to 
prevent  it  from  catching  on  the  side  of 
the  shaft.  Upon  reaching  bottom,  we  were 


108       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

to  leave  the  box  and  pass  through  the 
door  into  the  bottom  of  the  escapement, 
and  thence  out  through  the  second  door 
into  B  entry.  There  we  were  to  take  the 
temperature  with  a  self-recording  ther- 
mometer, and  observe  whatever  we  could 
without  going  more  than  a  few  yards  from 
the  door.  This  over,  we  were  to  return. 

"With  a  last  look  at  the  cold,  gray  sky, 
we  adjusted  our  helmets.  The  clamps 
were  tightened,  the  washers  inflated,  and 
we  drew  in  long  breaths  of  the  damp  air. 
Then  the  mouth-valves  were  snapped  in 
place,  and  the  hissing  in  the  valves  and  a 
sweetish  taste  in  my  mouth  told  me  that 
the  oxygen  had  been  turned  on.  Like 
children  in  a  darkened  room,  we  followed 
Delmer  through  the  first  door  and  turned 
to  see  it  close  behind  us.  There  was  a  sud- 
den blackness,  and  silence  save  for  the 
steady  hissing  of  the  compressed  oxygen 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE       109 

and  the  even  click  of  the  regulating  valves. 
The  second  door  was  opened,  and  without 
seeing  it  we  passed  through  and  stood,  as 
we  knew,  on  the  brink  of  the  open  shaft. 
Here  three  electric  lights  gleamed  dim 
and  far  away  through  the  thick  smoke 
that  completely  filled  the  dome  above  the 
shaft-mouth. 

I  had  known  darkness  before  —  the 
darkness  of  the  mine,  darkness  that  meant 
a  complete  absence  of  light;  but  here  was 
an  opaque  darkness,  a  darkness  that  the 
presence  of  light  failed  to  affect.  At  my 
feet  a  board  stretched  out  into  the  smoke 
and  disappeared.  Stooping  clumsily  to  my 
knees  under  the  weight  of  the  helmet,  and 
peering  forward  through  the  bull's  eye  in 
the  dim  rays  of  the  electric  lights,  I  saw 
that  the  board  passed  over  three  feet  of 
blackness  into  the  box  which  hung  in  the 
middle  of  the  shaft.  One  side  of  the  box, 


110       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

fastened  by  heavy  hinges,  had  been  low- 
ered down  like  a  drawbridge,  and  from 
this  open  side  to  my  feet  extended  the 
frail  gang-plank  that  we  must  pass  over. 
Out  before  me,  in  the  smoke  and  black- 
ness, the  box  swung  dimly,  its  nearest 
angle  half -lost,  like  the  bow  of  a  ship  in  a 
dense  fog. 

One  by  one,  we  crawled  on  our  hands 
and  knees  over  the  swaying  board  and 
reached  the  box;  but  so  dense  was  the 
smoke  and  blackness  that,  holding  my 
electric  torch  at  arm's  length,  try  as  I 
might,  I  could  distinguish  nothing  but  a 
faint  yellow  smudge  of  light  at  a  distance 
that  I  knew  to  be  but  the  length  of  my 
arm.  The  last  man  having  crossed,  the 
watcher  in  his  helmet  on  the  brink  pulled 
back  the  board;  and  groping  clumsily,  and 
hampered  in  the  darkness,  we  pulled  up 
the  swinging  side  of  the  box  and  lashed 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE       111 

it  into  place.  Then,  clear  and  vibrant, 
came  the  three  strokes  from  Delmer's 
hammer  on  the  saw-blade.  Far  away  we 
heard  the  bell  transmitting  our  signal  hi 
the  engine-house ;  and  then,  imperceptibly, 
without  jolt  or  sound,  the  faint  smudge  of 
tawny  yellow  of  the  three  electric  lights 
on  the  edge  of  the  shaft  seemed  to  rise 
above  us,  and  —  standing  silent  in  the 
box — we  sank  into  blackness  unutterable. 
Instantly,  sense  of  direction  was  gone. 
"We  could  see  nothing.  We  could  not 
even  see  through  the  bull's  eyes  of  our 
helmets  the  walls  of  the  shaft — almost 
within  arm's  reach.  Once,  I  held  my  light 
pointed  close  against  the  bull's-eye  of  my 
helmet,  and  found  a  sudden  relief  in  its 
yellow  glare. 

For  a  time  that  was  eternity  we  seemed 
to  swing  in  the  blackness  of  space,  but  we 
knew  that  we  were  steadily  descending. 


112       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

I  was  gripping  the  side  of  the  box,  which 
came  about  to  my  waist-line,  with  one 
hand,  and  trying  with  my  torch  hi  the 
other  to  peer  through  the  smoke  at  the 
side  of  the  shaft,  when  there  was  a  sud- 
den jolt  and  an  abrupt  stop.  The  box, 
swinging  in  its  descent,  had  caught  by 
one  corner  on  a  cross-rib  of  the  shaft. 
The  sudden  stroke  from  Delmer's  ham- 
mer on  the  gong  vibrated  in  my  ears,  and 
I  felt  the  floor  of  the  box  tipping  under 
me  like  the  deck  of  a  sinking  ship.  With 
one  arm  hooked  over  the  side,  and  the 
other  clutching  at  the  bale,  I  clung  fran- 
tically, I  could  not  even  see  to  what,  in 
the  darkness.  Far  above  us,  the  signal  had 
been  heard  and  transmitted,  and  with  the 
box  at  an  angle  of  almost  forty-five  de- 
grees, it  stopped  in  its  descent.  There 
was  a  moment  of  waiting  and  then  a  lurch 
as  KJIOX  pushed  us  free  from  the  side  of 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE       113 

the  shaft,  and  at  the  same  instant  a  sud- 
den slap  as  the  heavy  box  fell  and  brought 
up  on  about  three  feet  of  slack  steel  cable. 
We  learned  afterward  that  we  were  at  a 
level  of  about  two  hundred  feet.  Then 
three  strokes,  and  we  knew  that  we  were 
again  descending;  but  now,  with  hands 
outstretched,  we  pushed  ourselves  away 
from  the  walls  as  we  swung  from  side  to 
side  in  our  descent.  Two  minutes  more 
and  our  heavy  car  landed  lightly  as  a 
thistle  at  the  bottom  of  the  air-shaft. 

We  had  expected  that  we  should  feel 
the  slight  shock  as  we  hit  bottom,  not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  the  engineer 
on  top  would  calculate  our  position  exactly 
and  would  bring  us  slowly  to  a  rest;  but 
our  arrival  was  puzzling,  for  there  was 
no  jar  and,  in  addition,  the  box  landed  on 
an  angle,  when  it  should  have  rested 
squarely  on  the  floor  of  the  air-shaft.  For 


114       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

a  few  seconds  we  remained  in  our  places, 
silent  and  wondering;  then,  one  by  one, 
we  climbed  over  the  side.  As  I  stepped 
over  the  edge  of  the  box,  taking  care  that 
the  tubes  of  my  apparatus  did  not  catch 
on  any  projections,  my  feet  almost  slipped 
from  under  me,  for  it  seemed  as  though 
I  had  placed  them  on  a  slippery  mattress. 

One  by  one  we  crawled  out  and  over 
the  strange,  soft  object  that  lay  under  the 
box;  and  then,  peering  closely  in  the  faint 
light  of  our  torches,  we  saw  that  we  had 
landed  on  the  bloated  bodies  of  two  mules 
which  had  evidently  fled  before  the  smoke 
and  fire  when  the  mine  was  abandoned 
and  had  died  seeking  the  last  breath  of 
air  at  the  foot  of  the  air-shaft. 

There  was  about  a  foot  of  water  at  the 
bottom  of  the  shaft,  for  we  had  pumped 
water  down  the  sides  to  prevent  the  heat 
from  igniting  the  thin  board  lining;  and 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE       115 

through  the  water,  and  over  the  bodies  of 
the  mules,  we  groped  our  way  to  the  small 
door  a  yard  away  that  led  in  to  the  foot 
of  the  escapement.  One  by  one  we  crawled 
through  the  door,  wriggling  to  get  our 
shoulders  and  our  knapsacks  through  its 
small  confines,  and  yet  with  constant  care 
that  the  tubes  of  the  apparatus  and  the 
knapsack  and  helmet  did  not  touch  any- 
thing; for  the  words  of  the  chemist,  that 
ninety  seconds  of  the  gas  would  kill,  were 
never  for  an  instant  forgotten.  The  foot 
of  the  escapement  was  a  little  lower  than 
the  bottom  of  the  air-shaft  and  the  water 
correspondingly  deeper.  With  the  clear 
splashing  in  contrast  to  the  dullness  of 
the  darkness,  we  groped  for  the  second 
door  and  passed  through  it  into  B  entry. 
As  I  lifted  up  my  shoulders  on  the  other 
side  of  the  doorway,  a  sudden  heat  struck 
me,  and  I  realized  that  the  fire  had  been 


116       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

nearer  the  mine-bottom  than  we  had  sup- 
posed. 

Uncertain  as  to  the  perfect  efficiency 
of  our  apparatus — for  we  were  all  new 
to  it — we  refrained  from  venturing  far 
from  the  little  doorway  through  which 
we  had  just  passed.  "With  our  hands  we 
examined  the  props  on  either  side  of  the 
entry,  and  from  their  feeling  knew  that 
the  fire  had  not  reached  them,  and  that 
the  mine-bottom  was  unharmed;  but  the 
intense  heat  which  brought  the  sweat  sud- 
denly out  upon  us  raised  the  fear  that 
somewhere,  —  perhaps  only  a  few  yards 
away,  —  hidden  in  the  smoke  and  darkness, 
lay  a  dormant  fire  which  the  presence  of 
air  would  fan  into  active  flames.  Slowly 
we  withdrew  through  the  doorway,  and 
once  more  climbed  over  the  mules  into 
the  box.  The  sudden  transition  from  the 
heat  of  B  entry  to  the  cooler  atmosphere 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE       117 

of  the  air-shaft  condensed  the  sweat  inside 
our  helmets  and  smeared  the  inside  of  our 
bull's-eyes  with  a  thick  white  mist  that 
cut  off  even  the  little  that  we  had  previ- 
ously been  able  to  see. 

I  have  not  mentioned  the  conversation 
or  words  that  passed  between  us,  but  I 
do  not  remember  that  we  said  much  be- 
yond the  few  words  that  were  necessary. 
The  scant  sounds  that  echoed  through 
the  isinglass  of  the  helmets  seemed  more 
like  the  far-off  bellow  of  some  animal  than 
the  voice  of  a  man. 

Once  again  in  the  car,  we  gave  our  sig- 
nal, and  far  off  —  four  hundred  feet  above 
us — the  expectant  ears  of  the  watcher 
caught  the  note  of  our  two  bells  like  dis- 
tant church  chimes;  softly  we  felt  our- 
selves lifted,  and  the  ascent  was  begun. 
Four  minutes  later  the  three  electric  lights 
at  the  shaft-brink  glowed  —  now  almost 


118       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

defiantly  —  through  the  smoke,  and  we 
lowered  the  side  of  our  ship  and  dragged 
in  our  gang-plank.  Then,  one  by  one,  we 
groped  through  the  first  door  —  all  of  us 
—  and  then  through  the  second.  My  hel- 
met had  leaked  and  my  head  reeled  in  a 
misty  sort  of  way  from  the  time  I  left 
bottom;  and  as  the  bright,  gray  world 
outside  streamed  in  through  the  sweat- 
streaked  bull's-eye,  it  seemed  more  like  a 
pleasantly  swaying  picture  than  a  reality. 
Some  one  pulled  open  my  air-valve,  and 
in  a  second  my  helmet  was  off  and  I  drew 
into  my  lungs  air  that  had  seemed  never 
so  sweet  or  fresh. 

Already  another  crew  was  preparing 
for  a  third  descent,  to  carry  our  investi- 
gations still  further. 

For  one  long  week  we  continued  our 
work  at  the  air-shaft,  and  almost  every 
hour  a  crew  of  helmeted  men  was  lowered 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE       119 

down  in  the  swinging  box  to  the  bottom. 
Working  in  the  darkness  by  the  feeble 
light  of  their  torches,  knee-deep  in  water 
and  climbing  over  the  rotting  bodies  of 
the  mules,  they  erected  stoppings  across 
the  openings  of  the  two  air-courses  which 
led  from  the  bottom  of  the  air-shaft.  The 
small  door  connecting  the  air-shaft  with 
the  escapement  or  stairway  was  then 
opened,  and  a  few  hours  later  the  big  fan 
at  the  fan-house  began  slowly  to  turn  over 
and  force  pure  air  down  the  air-shaft, 
which  —  as  our  stoppings  proved  to  be 
tight  —  found  no  escape  into  the  mine 
and  returned  up  the  stairway,  making  a 
single  loop  at  the  bottom.  In  half  an  hour 
both  compartments  of  the  shaft  were  clear, 
and  men,  with  safety-lamps  and  helmets 
ready  in  case  of  danger,  descended  and 
found  the  smoke  gone  and  the  air  clean 
on  the  bottom.  That  night  the  bodies  of 


120       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

the  nearest  mules  were  hoisted  out  and 
everything  was  put  in  readiness  for  a  trip 
on  the  following  morning  into  the  tunnels 
of  the  mine  nearest  the  air-shaft.  With 
clean  air  at  bottom,  it  was  now  possible 
to  put  on  our  helmets  there  and  go  directly 
into  the  mine,  avoiding  the  danger  and 
discomfort  of  the  long  helmeted  trip  down 
the  smoke-filled  shaft. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing when  four  of  us  prepared  for  this  first 
investigation  of  conditions  existing  in  the 
mine  surrounding  the  air-shaft.  Our  hel- 
mets were  adjusted  on  top,  leaving  the 
air-valve  open,  to  be  closed  when  we 
passed  through  the  small  door  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairway  into  the  mine.  Delmer 
stayed  in  the  box,  and  the  three  of  us  left 
him  and,  splashing  noisily  in  the  water, 
crawled  through  the  small  door  into  the 
door  of  the  escapement,  and  then  suddenly 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE       121 

opening  the  door  into  the  mine,  passed 
through  it  as  quickly  as  we  were  able. 
We  realized  that  fire  might  exist  beyond, 
a  possibility  which  made  it  necessary  for 
us  to  crawl  through  as  quickly  as  possible 
in  order  that  the  puff  of  air  which  would 
accompany  us  might  not  be  of  sufficient 
volume  to  mix  with  gas  and  form  an  ex- 
plosive mixture  which  the  fire  would  ig- 
nite. I  was  the  last  to  go  through  the  door, 
turning  my  shoulders  sideways  in  order 
to  pass  my  knapsack  through  the  narrow 
aperture. 

From  the  comparative  coolness  of  the 
shaft  we  stepped  out  into  B  entry,  and  our 
first  impression  was  one  of  heat,  for  the 
air  was  hot  beyond  our  expectation.  We 
had  supposed — from  the  volume  of  smoke 
that  had  been  in  the  air-shaft  before  it  was 
blown  out — that  B  entry,  and  probably 
most  of  the  rest  of  the  mine,  would  be  in 


A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

a  like  condition,  but  the  conditions  were 
almost  worse  than  they  had  been  in  the 
air-shaft.  The  smoke  was  thick  as  a  fog- 
bank.  Groping  blindly  through  the  black- 
ness upon  which  our  lights  seemed  scarcely 
to  make  an  impression,  we  reached  the 
other  side  of  the  entry,  a  distance  of  about 
twenty  feet.  Then,  through  the  sweat- 
streaked  glass  in  my  helmet,  I  saw  a  dull 
red  glow,  first  almost  imperceptible,  and 
then  brighter  as  we  advanced :  a  tinge  of 
tawny  color  smeared  into  the  thick  black 
smoke.  The  entry  was  still  on  fire,  and  a 
few  steps  more  brought  us  so  close  to  the 
flames  that  the  heat  on  our  unprotected 
hands  and  necks  became  almost  unbeara- 
ble. There  was  nothing  now  that  could 
be  accomplished,  and  after  a  few  brief 
words  from  MacPherson,  bellowed  through 
his  helmet,  we  turned  and  felt  our  way 
back  to  the  small  doorway. 


FIGHTING  FOR  THE  MINE       123 

It  was  now  doubly  necessary  that  our 
exit  should  be  made  as  quickly  as  possi- 
ble, for  we  were  standing  in  a  gas-filled 
entry;  an  open  fire,  denoting  the  presence 
of  oxygen,  was  burning  actively  behind 
us,  and  every  second  that  the  door  re- 
mained open  as  we  passed  out  would  al- 
low the  clean  air  from  the  air-shaft,  carry- 
ing more  oxygen,  to  pass  into  the  entry. 

Without  a  word,  stumbling  awkwardly 
in  our  haste,  we  climbed  through  the  door 
and  fastened  it  behind  us.  "  The  entry  is 
on  fire,"  we  shouted  to  Delmer  as  we 
climbed  over  the  edge  of  the  box;  and 
then  for  three  or  four  long  minutes  we 
stood,  voiceless,  as  the  box  swung  up- 
ward, each  man  with  the  fear  in  his  heart 
that  a  sudden  explosive  blast  from  the 
mine  below  would  hurl  us  to  an  instant 
destruction. 


IX 

EXPLOSIONS 

OUE  exit  was  safely  accomplished, 
and  after  a  conference  at  the  fan- 
house  it  was  realized  that  through  some 
crevice  or  opening  from  the  air-shaft  to 
the  mine,  which  had  escaped  our  notice,  air 
had  passed  into  the  workings;  and  while 
we  had  labored  taking  out  the  bodies  of 
the  mules,  the  latent  fire,  revived  by  this 
new  supply  of  oxygen,  had  been  fanned 
into  active  flame  and  had  crawled  down 
the  entry  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  shaft. 
Under  these  conditions  all  our  work  had 
to  be  abandoned,  and  reluctantly  we  re- 
placed the  seal  over  the  air-shaft.  A  few 
hours  more  would  have  been  all  that  was 


EXPLOSIONS  125 

necessary  to  bring  the  fire  into  the  shaft 
and  destroy  it. 

Again  a  number  of  the  men  who  had 
until  now  been  active  in  the  work  lost 
heart  and  left  town.  December  had  come, 
and  with  it,  cold,  gray  days,  with  occa- 
sional flurries  of  snow,  and  ice  in  the  early 
mornings.  Disappointed,  but  not  down- 
hearted, and  spurred  on  by  the  more  than 
double  pay  they  were  receiving  for  their 
work,  the  men  who  remained  began  to 
follow  out  the  instructions  of  those  in 
charge  for  conquering  this  unexpected 
development.  At  the  mouth  of  the  air- 
shaft  a  great  furnace  was  constructed,  and 
for  four  days  and  nights  the  fumes  of  sul- 
phur were  pumped  slowly  down  the  air- 
shaft:  a  vapor  which  sank  of  its  own  ac- 
cord into  the  mine  and,  it  was  believed, 
would  smother  out  the  flames  at  the  foot 
of  the  shaft.  In  addition,  the  pipes,  which 


126       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

had  been  connected  with  the  two  drill- 
holes that  we  had  bored  down  from  the 
surface  into  the  mine,  were  connected  with 
the  boilers  in  the  power-house,  and  for  a 
week  steam  was  sent  down  the  pipes  to 
condense  in  the  mine  below,  and  assist  the 
sulphur  fumes  in  extinguishing  the  fire. 

By  the  middle  of  the  month,  it  was  de- 
termined to  make  another  attempt  to  de- 
scend into  the  mine.  It  was  no  longer  ad- 
visable to  use  the  air-shaft  as  an  entrance, 
for  our  previous  experience  had  told  us 
that  the  fire,  if  it  still  existed,  would  be 
at  the  foot  of  that  shaft;  accordingly  an 
air-tight  house  with  double  doors  and  a 
vestibule  was  built  over  the  hoisting-shaft, 
and  preparations  were  made  to  descend  in 
the  regular  hoisting-cage.  This  was  much 
easier,  for  here  there  was  no  danger  of 
mishap,  as  there  had  been  in  the  swinging 
box  in  the  air-shaft.  The  steel  elevator 


EXPLOSIONS  127 

would  carry  us  to  the  bottom  in  less  than 
a  minute,  and  the  regular  mine-signals 
would  give  us  easy  communication,  when 
on  bottom,  with  the  men  above. 

The  first  trip  down  proved  highly  en- 
couraging. There  was  no  fire  or  trace  of 
fire  anywhere  around  the  foot  of  the  hoist- 
ing-shaft. The  entry  was  filled  with  smoke, 
but  it  was  not  as  dense  as  it  had  been  in 
the  other  shaft,  and  with  new  and  more 
brilliant  portable  electric  lights  which  we 
had  secured,  we  were  able  to  work  under 
far  more  favorable  conditions.  The  first 
crew  that  descended  went  only  to  the 
bottom  and  was  immediately  hoisted  out 
again;  the  second  crew  continued  the  ex- 
ploration from  the  bottom  of  the  shaft; 
and  the  third  crew,  of  which  I  was  a  mem- 
ber, explored  B  entry  toward  the  foot  of 
the  air-shaft  as  far  as  we  were  able  to 
penetrate. 


128        A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

At  about  two  thirds  of  the  distance  be- 
tween the  hoisting-shaft  and  the  air-shaft, 
the  steam  which  had  been  pumped  into  the 
mine  had  loosened  the  roof,  and  a  great 
"  fall "  of  white  stone  seemed  effectively 
to  block  the  tunnel.  On  our  next  trip, 
however,  we  discovered  that  high  up  on 
the  right  side  was  a  small  opening  through 
which  we  could  crawl;  and,  hampered  by 
our  helmets,  and  fearing  to  press  even 
lightly  against  the  great  blocks  of  stone 
which  arched  above  us,  lest  a  touch  should 
bring  down  tons  of  rock  from  the  loose 
roof,  we  crawled  over  the  "fall "  and  down 
into  the  entry  on  the  other  side. 

Here  the  smoke  was  as  thick  as  it  had 
been  when  we  first  penetrated  into  that 
portion  of  the  entry  from  the  air-shaft, 
but  the  heat  was  gone,  which  seemed  to 
indicate  that  the  sulphur  and  steam  had 
done  their  work.  Tramping  through  the 


EXPLOSIONS  129 

water  which  flooded  the  floor  of  the  en- 
try, and  which  was  now  coated,  like  boiled 
milk,  with  a  white  skin  of  sulphur,  we 
reached  the  bottom  of  the  air-shaft.  A 
few  feet  beyond  the  small  door,  the  fire 
which  we  had  seen  that  other  morning 
had  burned  through  the  props  and,  the 
support  gone,  the  roof  had  fallen;  to  what 
extent  we  were  unable  to  determine.  The 
work  before  us  now  consisted  in  shutting 
off  the  various  entrances  into  the  rest  of 
the  mine  which  led  from  that  part  of  the 
entry  lying  between  the  two  shafts,  in 
order  that  we  might  remove  the  seals  from 
the  air-shaft  and  draw  the  air  slowly  down 
the  hoisting-shaft,  through  B  entry  and 
the  small  door  at  the  bottom  of  the  es- 
capement in  the  air-shaft,  and  up  to  the 
top  again  through  the  air-shaft;  thus  cre- 
ating an  actual  air-zone  in  the  mine  re- 
claimed from  the  gas  and  smoke. 


130       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

For  ten  long  days  the  work  continued, 
so  slowly  and  so  laboriously  that  it  was 
sometimes  hard  to  see  the  end  of  our  la- 
bors. Hampered  by  the  weight  and  bulk 
of  the  helmets,  and  panting  when  our  ex- 
ertions caused  our  lungs  to  demand  more 
air  than  the  regulating  valves  could  sup- 
ply, we  erected  six  stoppings,  of  matched 
boards  and  canvas,  over  the  mouths  of  the 
various  tunnels  which  led  off  from  B  entry ; 
and  with  our  bare  hands  mixed  plaster  and 
smeared  the  cracks  and  edges  until  the 
stoppings  were  tight.  Then  came  the  last 
and  hardest  stopping  of  all,  for  one  had  to 
be  built  across  the  entry  just  beyond  the 
air-shaft,  for  which  it  was  necessary  to 
carry  all  the  material  —  lumber,  saws, 
hammers,  metal  lath,  and  sacks  of  plaster 
—  up  the  entry  to  the  fall,  and  then  over 
the  hazardous  pass  and  down  into  the 
smoke  and  water  on  the  other  side. 


EXPLOSIONS  131 

Day  and  night  the  work  continued,  and 
after  a  week  of  terrible  labor  the  stopping 
was  completed.  I  remember  one  of  the  last 
trips  we  made,  when  nerves  and  muscles, 
worn  and  exhausted,  almost  refused  to  con- 
tinue their  work.  We  had  crawled  through 
the  pass  down  into  the  smoke  and  water 
on  the  other  side.  The  day  before,  two 
coils  of  hose  had  been  dragged  over  the 
fall  and,  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  con- 
nected with  the  water-main  in  the  air- 
shaft,  and  the  streams  directed  against  the 
fall  beyond  the  air-shaft,  where  fire  might 
still  exist  beneath  the  tons  of  fallen  rock. 
The  muffled  roar  of  the  water  filled  the 
black  smoke-packed  tunnel  with  sound, 
and  every  few  minutes  the  tall,  four-hun- 
dred-foot column  in  the  pipe  would  break, 
and  there  would  be  a  roar  and  crash  as 
though  the  whole  roof  were  giving  way 
above  us. 


132        A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

We  had  left  a  little  opening  in  the  stop- 
ping, that  we  might  go  through  and  plas- 
ter the  opposite  side,  and  as  I  crawled 
back  from  doing  this  work,  my  helmet 
struck  sharply  and  twisted  sideways  on 
my  head  for  a  second,  allowing  a  little  gas 
to  leak  in  between  the  washers.  A  minute 
later,  as  I  rose  to  my  feet,  a  dizziness 
seized  me,  and  calling  to  my  two  helpers, 
we  started  for  the  hoisting-shaft.  We  all 
realized  that  should  a  man  become  uncon- 
scious through  a  leak  in  his  hemlet,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  get  the  deadweight 
of  his  body  up  and  over  the  fall.  With  that 
one  thought  in  each  mind,  we  slowly 
crawled  up  and  over  the  masses  of  rock, 
through  which  many  journeys  had  worn  a 
hazardous  path,  and  down  on  the  other 
side.  And  now  flashes  of  light,  like  elec- 
tric sparks,  seemed  to  play  before  my  eyes, 
sliding  down  across  the  front  of  my  hel- 


EXPLOSIONS  133 

met.  My  knees  began  to  sway,  and  it  sud- 
denly occurred  to  me  that  they  must  be 
bending  in  both  directions  as  I  walked.  It 
was  a  hard  trip  to  the  shaft,  and  I  realized 
how  bright  was  the  cold  sunshine  on  top, 
and  how  clean  and  crisp  was  the  open  air, 
when  they  helped  me  off  with  my  helmet. 

On  Christmas  Eve  we  lost  a  man  under 
very  similar  circumstances.  Either  by 
striking  his  head  or  in  some  other  way,  he 
had  loosened  his  hemlet  and  been  over- 
come by  the  gas  which  had  leaked  in.  His 
body  lay  on  the  far  side  of  a  brattice,  and 
his  weight  and  the  helmets  which  his  com- 
panions wore  so  hampered  them  that  death 
came  before  he  was  finally  brought  to  the 
surface. 

With  the  completion  of  this  last  stop- 
ping, the  end  of  our  terrible  work  seemed 
near,  and  it  was  with  the  spirit  of  a  holi- 
day that  the  men  tore  off  the  seal  from  the 


134        A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

air-shaft  and  opened  the  doors  of  the 
house  at  the  top  of  the  man-hoist.  Slowly 
the  great  fan  once  more  turned,  and  after 
two  hours,  when  the  safety-lamps  no 
longer  detected  the  presence  of  gas  in  the 
air  which  came  out  of  the  air-shaft,  we 
cautiously  descended.  "With  our  helmets 
laid  aside  and  with  the  comparatively 
bright  light  of  our  safety-lamps,  the  mine 
took  on  a  more  familiar  and  homelike  as- 
pect. In  a  few  hours,  no  longer  hampered 
by  hemlets  or  conditions  of  smoke  and  gas, 
we  tore  down  a  wide  passage  through  the 
fall,  an  operation  that  would  have  taken 
days  to  accomplish  under  the  former  con- 
ditions, with  the  helmets.  That  evening  hi 
the  Superintendent's  room  in  the  office- 
building,  those  who  were  in  charge,  with 
the  maps  of  the  mine  spread  before  them, 
planned  the  next  move  in  the  fight  and 
determined  which  entries  should  next  be 


EXPLOSIONS  135 

opened  and  how  the  air-currents  should 
be  led  into  them  in  order  that  the  mine, 
tunnel  by  tunnel  and  section  by  section, 
might  be  cleared  of  the  smoke  and  gas. 

Meanwhile,  a  dozen  men,  under  the 
leadership  of  Boar,  had  remained  in  the 
mine  and  were  tightening  the  stoppings 
and  preparing  for  the  work  of  the  coming 
day.  It  was  about  eleven  o'clock  that  night 
when  Boar  heard  a  slight  explosion  beyond 
the  stopping  by  the  air-shaft.  "Without 
alarming  his  men,  he  began  an  investiga- 
tion, when  two  more  violent  explosions 
threatened  to  blow  down  the  stopping. 
The  unexpected  had  again  happened. 
Stoppings  once  more  had  leaked,  air  had 
passed  into  the  gas-filled  tunnels,  and  fire 
still  existed. 

"Without  a  second's  delay  the  men  were 
hoisted  from  the  mine,  and  fifteen  minutes 
after  the  last  man  stepped  from  the  cage 


136        A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

there  came  a  sudden  explosion  in  the  mine. 
From  the  hoisting-shafts  a  huge  white 
cloud  of  vapor  shot  up  into  the  night;  but 
at  the  air-shaft  the  force  of  the  explosion 
was  more  violent,  and  the  great  dome  of 
reinforced  concrete  above  it  fell  in  a  mass 
of  crumbled  wreckage,  swept  back  clean 
from  the  edge  of  the  shaft. 

It  was  one  o'clock  when  I  reached  the 
fan-house,  and  a  great  full  moon  was 
standing  high  in  the  cold  winter  sky.  Up 
from  the  square,  black  mouth  of  the  air- 
shaft,  a  tall  white  column  of  vapor  rose 
into  the  night,  and  then,  when  the  mine 
began  to  breathe,  disappeared;  and  with 
our  hands  held  above  the  black  hole,  we 
could  feel  the  rush  of  air  sucked  back  into 
the  abyss. 

At  an  interval  of  about  an  hour  follow- 
ing the  first  explosion  there  had  come  a 
second  but  less  violent  one;  and  again  two 


EXPLOSIONS  137 

hours  later,  when  the  mine  had  sucked 
back  sufficient  air  to  form  another  explo- 
sive mixture,  a  sudden  hissing  puff  again 
shot  out  from  the  shaft,  breaking  into 
three  pieces  two  twelve  by  fourteen  green 
oak  beams  that  we  had  laid  across  its 
mouth  as  the  foundation  for  a  seal.  So 
sudden  was  the  explosion  that  Peter  Daw- 
son,  a  powerful  Negro  who  was  crawling 
out  over  one  of  the  beams  when  it  occurred, 
was  blown  a  distance  of  over  fifty  feet. 
We  found  him  lying  beside  the  track  be- 
yond a  string  of  box-cars,  with  the  blood 
running  from  a  bad  scalp- wound.  His  first 
words  were  that  he  had  been  tossed  com- 
pletely over  the  cars.  "  I  seen  the  roofs  all 
white  with  frost  an'  moonlight,"  he  mut- 
tered; and  the  doctor  later  affirmed  that 
Pete  would  have  been  killed  when  he 
landed  on  the  rail  if  he  had  not  hit  on  his 
head.  A  hundred  men  were  now  working 


138       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

in  the  moonlight,  and  in  half  an  hour  two 
more  of  the  great  beams  were  placed 
across  the  shaft-mouth,  and  planks  and 
canvas,  packed  down  with  clay,  above  them. 
The  damage  at  the  top  of  the  man-hoist 
had  been  slight,  and  only  the  doors  on  the 
house  above  it  had  been  blown  from  their 
fastenings.  For  the  third  time  the  shafts 
were  sealed. 


ROB   CAKR 

IN  the  days  that  followed  the  explosion 
there  came  to  all  the  men  the  uncon- 
scious realization  that  the  next  attempt  to 
open  the  mine  would  in  all  probability  be 
the  last.  If  the  attempt  should  prove  suc- 
cessful, a  few  months'  time  might  see  the 
mine  again  in  working  order;  but  should 
another  disaster  occur,  the  mine — now 
partially  ruined  —  would  probably  be 
wrecked  beyond  any  immediate  recovery. 
As  there  had  been  no  trace  of  smoke  fol- 
lowing the  explosion,  and  as  the  mine  had 
been  so  promptly  sealed,  it  was  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  little,  if  any,  fire  existed 
in  the  workings;  and  the  only  question 
was,  how  much  of  the  work  of  restoration 


140        A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

that  had  been  effected  was  destroyed  by 
the  explosion  of  the  gas? 

Ten  days  later,  the  helmet-men  again 
were  lowered  into  the  mine,  and,  after  re- 
maining underground  for  an  hour  and  a 
half,  came  out  and  reported  that  the  force 
of  the  explosion  had  expended  itself  prin- 
cipally up  the  air-shaft,  and  that  although 
the  numerous  stoppings  that  we  had  erected 
had  been  for  the  most  part  destroyed  there 
were  no  serious  "falls"  that  they  could 
discover,  or  any  special  damage  to  the 
entries  which  they  had  explored.  Imme- 
diately the  work  of  restoration  began 
afresh,  and  all  day  and  night  the  helmet- 
men  in  regular  shifts  entered  the  gas-filled 
mine,  and  put  back  in  place  the  stoppings 
around  the  mine-bottom,  in  order  to  create 
once  more  an  air-zone  for  the  workers.  The 
work  was  dangerous.  Again  we  lost  a  man, 
an  enormous  Negro,  who  had  in  some  way 


ROB  CARR  141 

loosened  his  helmet  and  fallen  unconscious, 
too  far  from  the  foot  of  the  hoisting-shaft 
for  his  comrades  to  drag  him  to  the  hoist; 
before  the  rescue  party,  consisting  of  three 
more  helmet-men,  had  reached  him,  he  was 
dead.  And  during  these  more  recent  days, 
another  miner  had  met  his  death  in  the 
blackness  of  the  entry.  The  pressure  of 
the  pneumatic  washer  beneath  the  helmet 
had  stopped  the  circulation  around  the  top 
of  his  head,  and  in  endeavoring  to  loosen 
his  helmet  and  relieve  the  pain,  he  had  let 
in  a  breath  of  the  gas.  We  got  him  to  the 
surface  with  his  heart  still  faintly  beating, 
but  death  soon  followed. 

The  men  used  to  get  into  their  helmets 
in  a  little  room  that  we  had  fitted  up  for 
the  purpose  in  the  warehouse,  one  hundred 
feet  from  the  top  of  the  hoisting-shaft; 
and  as  we  saw  the  doors  close  behind  the 
men  as  they  entered  the  hoist,  every  man 


142       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

of  us  would  instinctively  look  at  his  watch 
and  mark  the  time  of  the  entrance  of  the 
shift.  An  hour  later,  some  one  was  sure  to 
remark,  "They've  been  gone  an  hour  — 
just";  and  then,  a  little  later,  "  They  're 
down  an  hour  and  ten  minutes."  It  was 
then  reasonable  to  expect  their  signal  to 
the  hoisting  engineer  at  any  minute.  An 
hour  and  twenty  minutes,  or  often  thirty, 
would  sometimes  pass  before  the  little  bell 
in  the  engine-house  rang  its  "  hoist  away." 
If  it  were  an  hour  and  a  half,  some  one 
would  say, "  They  ought  to  be  out  by  now  " ; 
and  Billy  Tilden,  who  had  charge  of  the 
helmets,  would  silently  begin  getting  ready 
a  second  set.  It  was  a  terrible  feeling  that 
would  come  over  us  as  we  watched  the 
minutes  slip  past  the  time  when  the  men 
should  appear;  and  it  was  a  thought  that 
had  come  to  us  all,  that  Charley  one  day 
voiced:  "Times  like  this,  I'd  rather  be 


r 


ROB  CARR  143 

down  with  ?em  than  safe  on  top  and  all 
scareful." 

"  They  are  coming  out !  "  some  one  would 
yell  from  the  door  of  the  hoisting  engin- 
eer's house ;  and  then  the  strain  would 
become  intense.  An  hour  and  a  half  or  an 
hour  and  three  quarters  down  was  a  long 
trip,  and  if  it  were  the  latter,  the  question 
would  arise  silently  in  every  one's  thoughts, 
"  How  many  will  appear  ?  " 

Four  always  went  down  on  a  shift,  and 
twice  I  remember  when  the  door  of  the 
gas-lock  above  the  hoisting-shaft  burst 
open,  and  but  three  helmeted  men  stag- 
gered out  into  the  sunlight.  As  the  first 
man's  helmet  was  loosened,  a  dozen  ques- 
tions were  fired  at  him.  Whom  had  they 
left  ?  Where  was  he  ?  And  while  they  were 
talking,  the  second  shift  was  already  on 
the  hoist  to  the  rescue. 

After  three  weeks  it  seemed  that  sue- 


144       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

cess  would  reward  us.  An  air-zone  was 
created  between  the  two  shafts,  and  hel- 
mets were  practically  discarded  except 
for  exploration  into  the  more  distant  work- 
ings of  the  mine.  From  the  north  end  of 
B  entry  the  air-current  had  been  directed 
into  the  West  North  portion  of  the  mine, 
and  that  entire  section  had  been  cleared 
of  the  gas.  There  had  been  no  fire  here, 
nor  had  the  effects  of  the  explosion  been 
felt,  and  it  was  like  walking  the  streets 
of  a  silent  and  long-deserted  city  to  ex- 
plore these  entries  so  hastily  abandoned 
on  the  night  of  the  fire  four  months  be- 
fore. Day  and  night,  like  the  skirmish  line 
of  an  army,  the  men  in  charge  moved 
slowly  from  place  to  place  at  the  edge  of 
the  air-zone,  each  day  penetrating  farther 
and  farther  from  the  foot  of  the  man-hoist 
as  the  air-currents  drove  back  the  gas, 
and  forced  it  up  and  out  through  the  shaft; 


ROB  CARR  145 

and  with  these  men  ever  on  ceaseless 
guard,  gangs  of  miners  attacked  the  great 
falls  in  B  entry,  and  carried  on  the  slow 
work  of  removing  the  piles  of  fallen  stone, 
and  retimbering  and  strengthening  the 
weakened  roof. 

I  went  on  at  three  o'clock,  on  a  shift 
that  lasted  until  eleven  in  the  evening, 
and  for  those  eight  hours  my  chief  work 
consisted  in  testing  and  marking  the  line 
where  the  life-supporting  air  ceased,  and 
the  invisible,  tasteless,  odorless  gas  began. 
Holding  our  safety-lamps  in  the  right  hand, 
level  with  the  eyes  when  we  suspected 
the  presence  of  gas,  we  would  watch  the 
flame.  The  safety-lamp  —  a  heavy,  metal, 
lantern-shaped  object,  with  a  circular  globe 
of  heavy  plate  glass  —  is  the  only  light 
other  than  electricity  that  can  be  safely 
carried  into  a  gaseous  mine.  The  lamps 
were  lit  before  they  were  brought  into 


146       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

the  mine,  and  in  addition  were  securely 
locked,  that  no  accident  or  ignorant  in- 
tention might  expose  the  open  flame  to 
the  gases  of  the  mine.  Over  the  small, 
sooty,  yellow  flame  which  gives  a  light 
less  bright  than  that  of  an  ordinary  candle, 
are  two  wire-gauze  cones  fitting  snugly 
inside  the  heavy  globe;  and  it  is  through 
these  cones  that  the  flame  draws  the  air 
which  supports  it.  The  presence  of  black- 
damp,  or  carbon  dioxide,  can  easily  be 
detected,  if  not  by  its  odor,  by  the  action 
of  the  flame,  which  grows  dim,  and,  if  the 
black-damp  exists  in  any  quantity,  is  finally 
extinguished. 

White-damp,  the  highly  explosive  gas 
which  is  most  feared,  has,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  totally  different  effect.  In  the 
presence  of  this  gas  the  flame  of  the  safety- 
lamp  becomes  pointed,  and  as  the  gas 
grows  stronger,  the  flame  seems  tp  sepa- 


ROB  CARR  147 

rate  from  the  wick,  and  an  almost  invisible 
blue  cone  forms  beneath  it.  If  the  miner 
continues  to  advance  into  the  white-damp, 
he  will  pass  through  a  line  where  there 
are  nine  parts  of  air  to  one  part  gas  (the 
explosive  mixture),  and  the  lamp  will  in- 
stantly register  this  explosive  condition 
by  a  sudden  crackling  inside  of  the  gauze 
and  the  extinguishing  of  the  flame.  Were 
it  an  open  lamp,  the  explosion  ignited  by 
the  flame  would  sweep  throughout  the 
entire  workings,  carrying  death  and  de- 
struction before  it;  but  by  the  construction 
of  the  safety-lamp,  the  explosion  confines 
itself  to  the  limited  area  within  the  gauze 
cones,  and  unless  the  lamp  is  moved  sud- 
denly and  the  flame  is  dragged  through 
the  gauze  at  the  instant  that  the  explosion 
occurs  within  the  globe,  it  will  not  extend 
beyond  the  gauze.  So  dim  was  the  light 
given  from  these  lamps  that  we  usually 


148       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

carried  a  portable  electric  lamp  for  light, 
using  our  safety-lamps  principally  for  de- 
tecting the  presence  of  gas. 

As  the  days  went  by,  the  men  became 
more  hopeful,  and  it  seemed  that  we  were 
winning  in  our  fight  against  the  invisible. 
Already  an  entire  quarter  of  the  mine  had 
been  recovered  from  the  gas, —  a  section 
where  men  might  work  without  the  use 
of  helmets,  restoring  the  burned  and  blown- 
down  timbering,  doors,  and  brattices. 

Eob  Carr,  assistant  mine-manager,  was 
a  tall  young  Scotsman  who  had  been  but 
a  year  or  two  in  America.  He  had  been 
brought  up  from  early  boyhood  in  the 
coal-mines,  and  had  won  the  confidence 
of  all  who  knew  him,  on  account  of  his 
knowledge  of  the  difficulties  which  beset 
the  miner,  and  his  ability  in  overcoming 
them.  He  was  a  tall  man, —  about  six  feet 
two  in  height,  —  with  slightly  stooping 


ROB  CARR  149 

shoulders,  caused  perhaps  by  the  attitude 
which  days  and  nights  of  work  under  the 
low  roofs  of  the  mine-tunnels  made  neces- 
sary. I  never  heard  him  swear,  and  the 
men  who  knew  him  maintained  that  he 
never  drank  or  smoked;  and  yet,  in  that 
rude  community,  where  virtues  were  often 
more  criticised  than  faults,  there  was  no 
man  more  respected  —  and,  perhaps,  loved 
—  than  he. 

He  joined  me  every  afternoon  in  the 
scale-house  at  about  five,  and  for  four 
hours  we  followed  the  long  west  entries 
out  to  their  headings,  testing  for  gas,  and 
confirming  the  safety  of  the  men  who 
worked  at  bottom  and  trusted  their  lives 
in  our  hands.  Each  day  he  joined  me,  and 
for  the  last  hours  of  my  shift  we  remained 
together,  examining  and  marking  every- 
where the  progress  of  the  air,  and  the 
ever-widening  boundaries  of  the  air-zone. 


150       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

At  eleven  our  shift  left  the  mine,  and  the 
night  shift,  under  Carr,  went  down;  and 
it  was  in  order  that  he  might  be  fully  in- 
formed as  to  the  conditions  underground 
before  he  entered  the  mine  with  his  men 
that  he  spent  these  additional  hours  in  the 
evening  with  the  men  of  the  shift  which 
preceded  him. 

One  day  we  had  walked  from  the  scale- 
house  down  Second  West  North  to  the 
brattice-door  which  separates  that  entry 
from  two  other  entries  which  cross  it  at 
right  angles  a  half-mile  from  the  mine- 
bottom.  It  was  our  purpose  to  open  this 
door  slightly  and  start  the  clean  air-cur- 
rent behind  us,  moving  through  it  into 
the  crossing  entries,  which  were  filled  with 
gas.  A  temporary  brattice  had  to  be  erected 
in  the  nearer  of  the  cross-entries,  and  for 
an  hour  we  sat  on  the  track  while  the  air 
hummed  through  the  half-open  door,  until 


ROB  CARR  151 

the  gas  had  been  sufficiently  blown  back 
to  permit  us  to  pass  through  and  put  up 
the  stopping. 

As  we  sat  on  the  track,  talking  in  the 
low  voice  that  men  always  use  in  dark  and 
quiet  places,  we  remarked  how  like  the 
sound  of  surf  on  a  hard  beach  and  a  wind 
from  the  sea  was  the  sound  of  the  air-cur- 
rent as  it  murmured  through  the  cracks 
•  in  the  brattice-door.  For  the  first  time, 
Carr  told  me  of  his  wife  and  the  two  small 
children  whom  he  had  left  in  Scotland,  to 
whom  he  would  some  day  return.  "  And 
I  'm  going  to  quit  mining  then,"  he  told 
me.  "  I  Jm  going  to  build  a  cottage  down 
somewhere  along  a  cove  that  I  know  of; 
where  you  can  hear  the  surf  on  the  beach, 
and  where  you  can  keep  a  sail-boat."  He 
had  made  good,  he  felt.  There  was  money 
in  the  bank  that,  with  the  additions  of  a 
year  or  two  more,  would  give  him  all  that 


152       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

he  desired,  and  then  he  was  going  home. 
And  so  we  talked  and,  later,  tested  and 
found  that  the  air  was  clear  at  last  in  a 
little  area  beyond  the  door.  We  erected 
the  stopping,  and,  waiting  a  few  minutes 
more  to  measure  with  our  lamps  the  speed 
of  the  retreating  gas,  we  turned  and 
walked  down  the  track.  It  was  about  ten 
o'clock.  In  an  hour  more  I  would  be  out, 
the  long,  hard  day  would  be  over;  and 
then  Carr  with  his  night  shift  would  re- 
turn into  the  mine,  and  take  up  the  work 
where  we  had  left  it. 

There  were  lights  and  voices  in  B  entry 
at  the  mine-bottom,  and  now  and  then  a 
bit  of  laughter;  and  there  was  a  cheerful 
noise  of  sledges  and  the  rumble  of  the 
wheels  of  the  flat  cars  as  the  men  pushed 
them,  laden  with  the  broken  stone  from 
the  falls,  down  the  track  to  the  hoisting- 
shaft.  A  little  before  eleven,  the  orders 


ROB  CARR  153 

were  given  and  the  men  laid  down  their 
tools,  and  picked  up  their  safety-lamps,  to 
leave.  Two  decks  on  the  great  hoisting- 
cage  carried  us  all,  and  a  minute  later  we 
stepped  out  into  the  fresh,  cold  air  of  the 
winter  night. 

From  the  yellow  windows  and  open 
door  of  the  warehouse  came  the  sounds 
of  voices  and  the  laughter  of  the  night 
shift  who  were  getting  ready  to  go  down. 
We  ;  tramped  in  through  the  open  door, 
blackened  and  wet,  and  for  a  few  minutes 
rested  our  tired  bodies,  and  warmed  our- 
selves in  the  pungent  heat  of  the  little 
room,  telling  the  others  what  we  had  ac- 
complished. As  I  left  the  warehouse,  I 
stopped  for  a  minute  on  the  doorstep  and 
took  a  match  from  Johnny  Ferguson, 
another  Scotsman,  a  strong,  silent  man, 
with  friendly  eyes ;  then  turned  and  walked 
home  in  the  darkness  of  the  cloudy  night. 


XI 

THE   TRAGEDY   OF  THE   MINE 

IT  was  about  half  an  hour  later  when 
I  reached  my  room,  for  I  had  stopped 
on  the  way  to  chat  with  the  gate-man.  I 
was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  loosen- 
ing the  heel  of  one  of  my  rubber  boots 
with  the  toe  of  the  other,  when  suddenly, 
through  the  stillness  of  the  sleeping  town, 
from  the  power-house  half  a  mile  away 
came  a  low  and  rising  note,  the  great  siren 
whistle  in  the  power-house.  Almost  fas- 
cinated, I  listened  as  the  great  note  rose 
higher  and  more  shrill  and  died  away 
again.  One  blast  meant  a  fire  in  the  town; 
two  blasts,  fire  in  the  buildings  at  the  mine ; 
and  three  blasts,  the  most  terrible  of  all, 
a  disaster  or  trouble  in  the  mine.  Once 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MINE    155 

more,  after  an  interminable  pause,  the 
sound  came  again;  and  once  more  rose 
and  died  away.  I  didj  not  move,  but  there 
was  a  sudden  coldness  that  came  over  me 
as  once  more,  for  the  third  time,  the  deep 
note  broke  out  on  the  quiet  air.  Almost 
instantaneously  the  loud  jingle  of  my  tele- 
phone brought  me  to  my  feet.  I  took 
down  the  receiver :  "  The  mine 's  blown 
up,"  said  a  woman's  voice. 

It  was  half  a  mile  between  my  room 
and  the  gate  to  the  mine-yards,  and  as  my 
feet  beat  noisily  on  the  long,  straight 
road,  doors  opened,  yellow  against  the 
blackness  of  the  night,  and  voices  called 
out — women's  voices  mostly. 

The  gate-man  knew  little.  "  She 's  let 
go,"  was  all  that  he  could  say. 

There  were  two  men  at  the  fan-house, 
the  fan-engineer  and  his  assistant,  and  in 
a  second  I  learned  from  them  that  there 


156       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

had  come  a  sudden  puff  up  the  air-shaft 
that  had 'spun  the  fan  backward  a  dozen 
revolutions  on  the  belt  before  it  picked 
up  again.  The  explosion  doors,  built  for 
such  an  emergency  on  the  new  dome 
above  the  air-shaft,  had  banged  open 
noisily  and  shut  again  of  their  own  weight. 
That  was  all. 

There  were  half  a  dozen  men  at  the  top 
of  the  hoisting-shaft.  The  hoisting  en- 
gineer sat,  white-faced,  on  his  seat  by  the 
shaft-mouth,  one  arm  laid  limply  on  the 
window-sill,  his  hand  clenched  on  the 
lever.  "  I  tried  to  telephone  'em,"  he  said, 
"but  they  didn't  answer.  The  cage  was 
down.  She  came  out  with  a  puff  like  you 
blow  out  of  your  pipe;  that's  all."  He 
stopped  and  awkwardly  wiped  his  face. 
"  Then  I  left  the  hoist  down  five  minutes 
and  brought  her  up,"  he  continued,  "  but 
there  was  no  one  in  it.  Then  I  sent  it 
down  again.  It 's  down  there  now." 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MINE    157 

"  How  long  has  it  been  down?  "  I  asked. 

"  Ten  minutes/'  he  hazarded. 

I  gave  him  the  order  to  hoist;  and  the 
silence  was  suddenly  broken  by  the  grind 
of  the  drums  as  he  pulled  the  lever  back, 
and  the  cable  began  to  wind  slowly  up- 
ward. A  minute  later  the  black  top  of  the 
hoist  pushed  up  from  the  hole,  and  the 
decks,  one  by  one,  appeared — all  empty. 

There  was  no  one  at  the  mine  except 
the  hoisting  engineer  and  some  of  the 
night  force  who  were  on  duty  at  the 
power-house  and  in  the  engine-room.  In 
the  long  months  of  trouble  our  force  had 
gradually  diminished,  and  of  those  who 
had  remained  and  who  were  equal  to  such 
an  emergency,  part  were  now  in  the  mine, 
and  the  rest,  worn  out  and  exhausted  by 
the  long  day's  work,  were  far  away  in  the 
town,  asleep;  or  perhaps,  if  the  whistle 
had  aroused  them,  on  their  way  to  the 


158        A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

mine.  Instant  action  was  necessary,  for 
following  an  explosion  comes  the  after- 
damp, and  if  any  were  living  this  poison- 
ous gas  would  destroy  them. 

As  I  turned  from  the  shaft-mouth,  Mc- 
Pherson,  the  superintendent,  a  square- 
built,  freckled  Scotsman  about  fifty  years 
of  age,  came  running  toward  the  ware- 
house. There  were  but  two  helmets  ready, 
for  so  favorably  had  our  work  progressed 
that  we  had  neglected  to  keep  more  than 
two  charged  with  oxygen,  and  had  allowed 
the  rest  to  be  taken  apart  for  repairs. 
Familiar  with  the  conditions  existing  in 
the  mine,  we  realized  that  the  explosion, 
however  slight,  must  have  blown  down 
many  of  the  stoppings  which  we  had 
erected,  and  allowed  the  pent-up  gas  to 
rush  back  into  the  portion  of  the  mine 
which  we  had  recovered,  and  in  which 
the  night  shift  was  now  imprisoned.  If 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MINE    159 

the  gas  had  been  ignited  by  open  fire, 
immediate  action  was  necessary,  for  our 
own  safety  as  well  as  for  the  chance  of 
rescuing  the  men  in  the  mine ;  for  in  the 
month  preceding  we  had  seen  the  mine 
"repeat"  at  regular  intervals  with  two 
explosions,  and  if  the  fire  had  been  ignited 
from  open  flame  we  must  enter  it,  effect 
the  rescue  of  our  comrades,  and  escape 
before  we  could  be  caught  by  a  second 
explosion.  On  the  other  hand,  the  chances 
were  equal  that  the  explosion  might  have 
been  set  off  by  a  defective  gauze  in  a 
safety-lamp  or  some  other  cause,  and  that 
there  would  be  no  immediate  explosion 
following  the  first  one. 

In  the  hurry  of  adjusting  our  helmets, 
no  one  noticed  that  the  charge  of  oxygen 
in  mine  was  short,  and  that  an  hour  and 
forty  minutes  was  my  working  limit;  and 
all  unconscious  of  this,  I  tightened  the 


160       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

valve,  and  with  the  oxygen  hissing  in  the 
check-valves,  we  left  the  bright  light  of 
the  room,  and  felt  our  way  down  the  steps 
into  the  darkness  of  the  yard,  where  a 
great  arc-light  above  the  hoisting-shaft 
made  objects  visible  in  its  lavender  light. 
A  crowd  had  already  gathered;  a  dark, 
silent  crowd  that  stood  like  a  flock  of 
frightened  sheep  around  the  mouth  of  the 
man-hoist.  With  a  man  on  either  side  of 
us  to  direct  us,  we  walked  to  the  hoist, 
our  electric  hand-lanterns  throwing  long 
white  beams  of  light  before  us.  There  was 
no  sound;  no  shrieking  of  women,  no 
struggling  of  frenzied  mothers  or  sisters 
to  fight  their  way  into  the  mine ;  but  there 
was  a  more  awful  silence,  and  as  we  passed 
a  pile  of  ties,  I  heard  a  whimpering  noise, 
like  a  puppy,  and  in  the  light  of  my  lamp 
saw  the  doubled  form  of  a  woman  who 
crouched  alone  on  the  ground,  a  shawl 
drawn  over  her  head,  sobbing. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MINE    161 

We  stepped  on  the  hoist,  and  for  an 
instant  there  came  the  picture  of  a  solid 
line  of  people  who  hung  on  the  edge  of 
the  light;  of  white  faces;  of  the  lavender 
glare  of  the  arc-lamp,  contrasting  with 
the  orange  light  from  the  little  square 
window  in  the  house  of  the  hoisting  engin- 
eer. "Are  you  ready?"  he  called  to  us. 
"Let  her  go,"  we  said;  and  the  picture 
was  gone  as  the  hoist  sank  into  the  black- 
ness of  the  shaft.  "We  said  nothing  as  we 
were  lowered,  for  we  knew  where  the 
men  would  be  if  we  could  reach  them,  and 
there  was  nothing  else  to  talk  about.  The 
grind  of  the  shoes  of  the  hoist  as  they 
scraped  the  rails  made  a  sound  that 
drowned  out  my  feeble  whistling  of  the 
"  Merry  Widow  "  waltz  inside  of  my  helmet. 

We  felt  the  motion  of  our  descent 
slacken,  and  then  came  a  sudden  roaring 
splash  as  the  lower  deck  of  the  hoist  hit 


X 


162       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

the  water  which  filled  the  sump.  Slowly 
we  sank  down  until  the  water  which 
flooded  that  part  of  the  mine  rose,  cold 
and  dead,  to  our  knees,  and  the  hoist 
came  to  a  stop.  Splashing  clumsily  over 
the  uneven  floor,  we  climbed  the  two 
steps  which  led  to  the  higher  level  of  B 
entry,  and  for  a  minute  turned  the  white 
beams  of  our  lights  hi  every  direction. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  seen,  and  no 
trace  of  any  explosion  except  a  thin,  white 
layer  of  dead  mist  or  smoke  which  hung 
lifeless,  like  cigar-smoke  in  a  quiet  room, 
about  four  feet  from  the  ground;  but 
there  was  a  silence  that  was  terrible,  for 
in  it  we  listened  in  vain  for  the  voices  of 
men.  At  first  we  assured  ourselves  that 
there  was  no  one  around  the  bottom  of 
the  shaft,  for  we  had  expected  that  some 
one,  injured  by  the  explosion,  might  have 
been  able  to  crawl  toward  the  man-hoist; 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MINE    163 

but  there  was  no  trace  of  any  human  be- 
ing- 
Walking  slowly  and  peering  before  us 
through  the  bull's-eyes  of  our  helmets,  to 
right  and  left,  we  advanced  down  the  en- 
try, our  lights  cutting  the  blackness  like 
the  white  fingers  of  twin  searchlights. 
Suddenly,  far  off  in  the  darkness,  there 
came  a  sound.  It  was  laughter.  We 
stopped  and  listened.  High,  shrill,  and 
mad  the  notes  caught  our  ears.  Again  we 
advanced,  and  the  laughter  broke  into  a 
high,  shrill  song.  To  right  and  left  we 
swung  the  bars  of  our  searchlights,  feel- 
ing for  the  voice.  Suddenly  the  white 
light  brought  out  of  the  darkness  a 
tangled  mass  of  blackened  timbers  which 
seemed  to  fill  the  entry,  and  into  the  light 
from  the  pile  of  wreckage  staggered  the 
figure  of  a  man,  his  clothes  hanging  in 
sooty  ribbons,  and  his  face  and  body 


164        A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

blackened  beyond  recognition.  Only  the 
whites  of  his  eyes  seemed  to  mark  him 
from  the  wreckage  which  surrounded 
him.  In  a  high-pitched  voice  he  called  to 
us,  and  we  knew  that  he  was  mad.  "  Come ! 
Come ! "  he  cried.  "Let 's  get  out  of  here. 
Come  on,  boys!  Let's  go  somewhere"; 
and  then,  as  his  arms  instinctively  caught 
our  necks,  and  we  felt  for  his  waist,  he 
began  talking  to  Jesus.  With  our  sway- 
ing burden,  we  turned  and  retraced  our 
steps  down  the  entry,  and  fifteen  minutes 
after  our  descent  into  the  mine,  we  handed 
out  of  the  hoist  the  first  man  rescued,  to 
his  friends. 

Once  more  came  the  vision  of  the  great 
black  wall  of  people  in  the  lights  at  the 
mine-mouth,  and  again  we  plunged  down 
into  the  blackness  and  silence  of  the  mine. 
Reaching  bottom,  we  walked  as  rapidly 
as  we  were  able  beyond  the  point  where 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MINE    165 

we  had  found  the  madman,  to  where  the 
great  structure  of  the  scale-house  had 
once  filled  a  cross-cut  between  B  entry 
and  the  air-course  behind  it.  Where  once 
had  been  solid  timbers  and  the  steel  struc- 
ture of  the  scales,  now  remained  nothing 
but  the  bare  walls  of  the  cross-cut,  swept 
clean  by  a  giant  force,  and  in  the  en- 
try the  crumbled  and  twisted  wreckage 
marked  where  the  force  of  the  explosion 
had  dropped  it  in  its  course.  With  a  swing 
of  my  light  I  swept  the  floor  of  the  cross- 
cut. Half-way  down  it,  on  the  floor,  lay 
what  seemed  to  be  a  long  bundle  of  rags. 
I  knew  it  was  a  man.  There  was  no  move- 
ment as  I  walked  toward  it,  and  as  I  knelt 
over  it  a  sudden  impulse  came  to  me  to 
disbelieve  my  first  thought  that  this  could 
be  a  man.  Prevented  from  seeing  clearly 
by  the  bull's-eye  of  my  helmet,  and  the 
poor  light  of  my  electric  lamp,  I  felt  for 


166        A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

his  chest,  and  as  my  hand  touched  his 
breast,  I  felt  that  it  was  warm  and  wet. 
Perhaps  he  was  alive.  I  ran  my  light 
along  the  bundle.  Those  were  his  feet.  I 
turned  it  the  other  way.  The  man  was 
headless.  Instantly  I  got  to  my  feet,  and 
in  the  faint  glimmer  of  McPherson's  light 
I  saw  that  he  had  found  something  in  the 
wreckage.  ""What  is  it?"  I  bellowed  to 
him  through  my  helmet.  He  pointed  with 
his  ray  of  light.  A  body  hung  in  the  mass 
of  wreckage,  thrown  into  it  like  putty 
against  a  screen.  "We  turned  and  contin- 
ued our  way  up  the  entry. 

Halfway  between  the  shafts  there  was 
a  temporary  canvas  stopping,  and  we 
knew  that  if  we  could  tear  this  down,  the 
air  from  the  fan  which  had  been  speeded 
up  must  short-circuit,  and  pass  through 
B  entry,  clearing  out  the  after-damp  be- 
fore it.  Most  of  the  men,  if  not  all,  would 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MINE    167 

be  in  this  entry ;  of  that  we  were  confident. 
By  tearing  down  the  brattice  and  thus 
changing  the  direction  of  the  ventilation, 
life  might  be  saved. 

As  I  have  said,  I  had  entered  the  mine 
on  my  first  trip  with  a  short  charge  of  oxy- 
gen, and  in  the  urgency  had  failed  to  re- 
plenish it  before  going  down  the  second 
time.  As  I  turned  from  the  cross-cut  a 
sudden  tugging  at  my  lungs  told  me  that 
my  air  was  running  low.  Beside  the  track, 
in  a  pool  of  water,  lay  a  blackened  object 
that  I  knew  to  be  a  man.  He  was  the  only 
one  I  recognized,  and  I  knew  that  it  must 
be  Daman,  one  of  the  gas-inspectors, — 
the  body  was  so  small.  A  few  feet  beyond 
him  lay  another,  and  another,  all  blackened 
and  unrecognizable.  The  white  wall  of 
the  brattice  gleamed  suddenly  before  us, 
and  in  a  second  we  had  torn  it  from  its 
fastenings.  One  side  had  already  disap- 


168        A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

peared  from  the  force  of  the  explosion. 
"Why  it  was  not  all  torn  to  ribbons,  I  do 
not  know. 

As  I  turned,  I  called  to  McPherson  that 
I  was  in,  and  as  I  spoke  a  sudden  black- 
ness engulfed  me.  My  air  was  gone.  The 
sights  of  that  awful  night  and  the  long 
strain  of  the  months  of  dangerous  work 
on  high-strung  nerves  had  caught  me.  I 
came  to  with  my  eyes  closed,  and  a  clean, 
sweet  taste  of  fresh  air  in  my  mouth.  I 
thought  I  was  above  ground,  but  opening 
my  eyes  I  saw  that  I  was  looking  through 
the  bull's-eye  of  my  helmet  at  a  blackened 
roof,  dim  in  the  single  shaft  of  a  lamp. 
McPherson  was  talking  to  me.  He  had 
dragged  me  from  [where  I  lay  to  where 
he  had  felt  the  air  blow  strongest.  My 
weight,  increased  by  the  forty-five  pounds 
of  the  helmet,  made  it  impossible  for  him 
to  think  of  moving  me  unaided.  There 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MINE     169 

was  no  time  to  summon  assistance.  In  the 
strong  current  of  air,  he  had  opened  my 
valves  and  trusted  that,  revived  by  the 
fresh  air,  I  could  reach  the  hoisting-shaft 
under  my  own  locomotion  before  the  after- 
damp could  overcome  me.  Faint  and  reel- 
ing, I  got  to  my  feet;  we  started  down 
the  entry,  our  arms  about  each  other's 
necks.  We  were  both  staggering,  and 
halfway  to  the  sump  I  fell.  Then  we 
crawled  and  rested  and  crawled  again. 
I  think  I  remember  splashing  in  the  water 
at  the  foot  of  the  hoisting-shaft,  but  no- 
thing more.  Out  of  the  twenty-seven  men 
who  had  entered  the  mine  we  had  found 
but  one  alive. 

In  the  long  night  that  followed  about 
twenty  of  the  bodies  were  removed  from 
the  mine,  for  the  fan  soon  cleared  the  gas 
from  the  main  entry,  where  most  of  the 
men  had  been  when  the  explosion  occurred. 


170       A  YEAR  IN  A  COAL-MINE 

At  dawn  a  faint  tinge  of  fresh  wood-smoke 
in  the  air  that  poured  from  the  man-hoist 
suggested  that  a  fire  had  started  up  some- 
where in  the  workings,  and  as  this  might 
cause  another  explosion,  the  work  of  re- 
moving the  bodies  was  for  the  time  aban- 
doned and  the  shafts  were  sealed. 

Two  weeks  later  a  final  attempt  was 
made  to  recover  the  bodies  which  still  re- 
mained in  the  mine,  and  fourteen  men 
were  engaged  hi  the  work,  when  a  sharp 
explosion  occurred.  The  majority  reached 
the  top,  bringing  with  them  two  of  their 
companions,  who  died  within  a  few  hours, 
but  they  left  behind  them  near  the  foot  of 
the  man-hoist  the  bodies  of  three  others. 

With  this  disaster  the  mine  was  aban- 
doned, the  little  town  became  soon  de- 
serted, and  for  a  year  and  more  the  great 
seals  on  the  shafts  remained  unbroken. 
To-day  the  mine  is  once  more  in  opera- 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  THE  MINE     171 

tion,  for  a  new  company  obtained  the 
property  and  after  months  of  almost  hope- 
less struggle  succeeded  in  restoring  it  to 
a  working  condition. 

Sometimes  I  think  that  I  would  like  to 
go  back  and  see  once  more  the  big  black 
tipple  that  guards  the  shaft-mouth  and 
perhaps  go  down  to  B  entry  and  watch 
the  trains  come  in,  and  then  I  think  of 
faces  I  would  look  for,  faces  that  would 
not  be  there. 


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